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A    CHAPTER    FROM    THE 


HAST  THOU   ENTERED  INTO   THE  TREASURES  OF  THE  SNOW? 

JOB  mviii.  22. 

"  Acquaint  thyself  with  God,  if  thou  wouldst  taate 
His  works.    Admitted  once  to  his  embrace, 
Thou  shall  perceive  that  thou  wast  blind  before ; 
Thine  eye  shall  be  instructed ;  and  thine  heart, 
Made  pure,  shall  relish  with  divine  delight, 
Till  then  unfelt,  what  hands  divine  have  wrought." 

COWPIB. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

AMERICAN    TRACT     SOCIETY, 

No.    28    CORNHILL,    BOSTON. 


Entered  according  lo  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


GEO.    C.    BAND    (t    AVERT, 


BRIEF  article  on  Snow-flakes,  in  one  of  the  peri- 
odicals published  by  the  American  Tract  Society 
in  the  winter  of  1862-3,  accompanied  by  a 
cut  exhibiting  some  of  their  forms,  elicited 
from  its  readers  many  expressions  of  interest, 
and   suggested  the  preparation  of  a  book  on 
this  curious  but  generally  little-known  subject. 

The  beautiful  forms  of  many  of  the  snow-crystals  were 
observed  and  sketched  more  than  a  century  ago.  The 
Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society  of  London,  for  1755, 
contain  representations  of  ninety-one  varieties,  with  descrip- 
tions by  Dr.  Nettis.  Captain  William  Scoresby,  the  emi- 
nent English  navigator,  has  given,  in  his  Arctic  Regions, 
drawings  of  ninety-six  varieties.  More  recently,  numerous 
specimens,  with  accompanying  descriptions,  have  been  given 


PREFACE. 

to  the  public  by  James  Glaisher,  Esq.,  of  Lewisham,  Eng- 
land. It  is  from  these  sources,  chiefly,  that  the  figures 
here  exhibited  have  been  derived. 

It  has  been  no  part  of  our  design,  in  this  work,  to 
enter  into  any  scientific  statements  concerning  the  snow- 
flakes,  or  the  laws  of  their  formation.  A  brief  general 
description  of  them  is  all  that  has  been  attempted.  Yet 
the  reader  should  not,  from  this,  infer  that  there  is  any 
question  respecting  the  truthfulness  of  the  sketches.  The 
drawings  were  originally  made  with  scientific  precision,  and 
have  been  carefully  copied.  A  few  simple  figures  at  the 
top  of  page  11  are  designed  to  show  the  primary  geo- 
metrical forms  under  which  the  snow-vapor  crystallizes. 
With  that  exception,  they  are  all  representations  of  indi- 
vidual crystals,  actually  observed  and  sketched  with  the 
aid  of  the  microscope. 

It  is  proper  to  add,  however,  that  these  representations 
are  highly  magnified,  especially  those  on  the  last  two  or 
three  plates.  The  real  size  of  the  crystals  observed  by 
Scoresby  varied  from  one  thirty-fifth  to  one-third  of  an  inch 
in  diameter.  Dr.  Nettis  remarks :  "  The  natural  size  of 
most  of  the  shining,  quadrangular  particles,  and  of  the  lit- 
tle stars  of  snow,  as  well  the  simple  as  the  more  compound 


PREFACE. 

ones,  does  not  exceed  the  twentieth  part  of  an  inch."  The 
dimensions  'as  well  as  form  of  the  crystals  seem  to  depend 
upon  the  amount  of  vapor  in  the  atmosphere,  the  temper- 
ature, and  other  circumstances  not  easy  to  specify. 

We  may  be  permitted  to  express  the  hope  that  many  of 
our  readers  will  examine  for  themselves  these  beautiful 
productions  of  nature.  In  our  own  climate,  the  "  treasures 
of  the  snow"  are  open  to  all  who  choose  to  explore  themj 
and  there  can  scarcely  be  an  amusement  more  entertaining, 
and  at  the  same  time  instructive,  than  that  of  observing 
and  sketching  these  delicate  crystals.  No  expensive  or 
complicated  apparatus  is  needed  for  this  purpose.  A  good 
microscope  is  the  chief  requisite;  besides  which,  a  pair  of 
dividers  and  a  rule  will  be  sufficient.  We  subjoin  a  state- 
ment from  Mr.  Glaisher  of  his  own  mode  of  making  his 
examinations. 

"  For  the  information  of  those  who  would  carefully  ob- 
serve snow-crystals,  I  may  remark  that  my  own  plan  of 
procedure  is  to  expose  a  thick  surface  of  plate-glass  on  the 
outer  side  of  the  window,  resting  on  the  ledge.  Seated 
within  the  room,  I  am  enabled,  with  comparative  comfort, 
and  at  my  leisure,  to  make  my  drawings  and  record  my  ob- 
servations, the  accuracy  of  which  I  am  able  to  verify  to  my 


PREFACE. 

satisfaction,  as  the  crystal  received  upon  the  cold  surface 
of  the  glass,  itself  several  degrees  below  freezing,  remains 
a  sufficient  length  of  time  for  the  requirements  of  the  ob- 
server. In  many  cases,  it  becomes  frozen  to  the  glass,  and 
is  thus  secured  from  the  influence  of  the  wind,  which  not 
unfrequently  snatches  away  some  most  intricate  form  from 
the  desiring  eye  of  the  observer." 

If  this  work  shall  be  the  means  of  introducing  any  of 
our  readers  to  the  knowledge  of  this  interesting  depart- 
ment of  the  Creator's  works,  and  eliciting  those  sentiments 
of  admiration  and  reverence  which  his  wonder-working 
power  should  inspire  in  every  beholder,  it  will  not  have 

been  issued  in  vain. 

I.  P.  W. 

BOSTON,  1863. 


1.  ST-TOAV     STRUCTURE, , ,-, 13 

a.  UNITY     I?*     DIVERSITY, , 23 

3»  Jt      TC    Jv    J*      iii    O     X?    I    C)    ^r   , .31 

4.  PURITY, 41 

o.  OR  A.C  E, 51 

6.  BEAUTY, 63 


CONTENTS. 


7.     AVKA-ICNES  S, 


9.     G-LA.DJSTKSS, 


2.      INSTRUCTION-, 


75 


101 


115 


125 


139 


G\ 


[tnulur 


iji  saitb  to  the  Snofo,  ge  than  on  ibt  htt  of  Ibt  €arib— |ob  3Z  :  8. 


the  watery  vapors  in  the 
atmosphere  are  in  sufficient 
quantities  to  be  precipitated  to 
the  earth,  and  at  the  same  time 
their  temperature  is  at  or  below 
the  freezing  point,  their  parti- 
cles unite,  but  not  as  fluid  drops. 
In  approaching  each  other  they 
arrange  themselves  in  regular 
figures,  called  crystals.  The  va- 
rious forms  of  these  may  be  grouped  into  three  gen- 
eral classes. 

1.  Prismatic,  having  three  or  six  sides,  usually  the 
latter  (page  11,  figs.  2,  4).  Scoresby  compares  the 
finest  specimens  of  these  to  "  white  hairs  cut  into 
lengths  not  exceeding  a  quarter  of  an  inch." 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


2.  Pyramidal,  either  triangular  or  hexagonal  (figs. 
5,  6).     They  are  exceedingly  small,  being  only  one- 
thirtieth  of  an  inch  in  hight. 

3.  Lamellar,   consisting    of   thin    and    flat   plates, 
some  of  them  stelliform,  having  six  points  radiating 
from  a  center  (fig.  11),  and  some  hexagonal  (page 
21,  fig.  1).     Both  these  species  are  in  infinite  abun- 
dance, and  of  all  sizes,  from  the  smallest  speck  to 
one-third  of  an  inch  in  diameter. 

These  three  leading  forms  are  endlessly  combined, 
and  give  rise  to  innumerable  varieties,  from  the  sim- 
plest to  the  most  complex.  Pyramids  are  mounted 
on  prisms,  at  one  or  both  ends  (page  11,  figs.  7,  8) ; 
prisms  are  united  in  one  star-like  figure,  like  spokes 
of  a  wheel  (fig.  10),  and  both  are  joined  with  plates 
in  all  conceivable  forms  of  beauty  and  diversity. 
The  specimens  shown  throughout  our  series  of  en- 
gravings illustrate  these.  The  plates  themselves 
are  complex,  showing  within  their  outer  boundaries 
white  lines,  which  divide  them  into  triangles,  stars, 
hexagons,  and  other  regular  figures.  Some  plates 
are  transparent,  others  opaque  (page  21,  fig.  13). 

When  the  prisms  are  combined  with  plates,  it  is 
generally  in  the  same  plane,  but  sometimes  the  for- 
mer are  set  perpendicularly  to  the  surfaces  of  the 


14 


SNOW   STRUCTURE. 


latter  (page  29,  figs.  18,  19,  20,  21).  These  singular 
figures  resemble  a  wheel  with  its  axle.  Scoresby 
says  that  on  one  occasion,  snow  of  this  kind  fell  upon 
the  deck  of  his  ship  to  the  depth  of  three  or  four 
inches ! 

In  some  instances  the  central  plate  has  little  prisms 
or  spines  projecting  from  it  like  hairs,  on  one  or  both 
sides,  at  an  angle  of  sixty  degrees.  Sometimes,  in- 
stead of  a  plate,  the  central  part  is  a  little  rough 
mass  like  a  hailstone,  bristling  with  spines,  somewhat 
resembling  a  chestnut-bur. 

Much  attention  has  been  given  to  the  meteorolog- 
ical conditions  of  the  atmosphere  during  the  fall  of 
snow,  to  ascertain  in  what  circumstances  the  differ- 
ent varieties  of  crystals  are  produced.  Nothing  very 
definite,  however,  is  discoverable  in  this  respect. 
The  general  facts  are  thus  summed  up  by  Mr. 
Scoresby:  "When  the  temperature  of  the  air  is 
within  a  degree  or  two  of  the  freezing  point,  and 
much  snow  falls,  it  frequently  consists  of  large,  irreg- 
ular flakes,  such  as  are  common  in  Britain.  Some- 
times it  exhibits  small  granular,  or  large  rough,  white 
concretions ;  at  others  it  consists  of  white  spiculae,  or 
flakes  composed  of  coarse  spiculae,  or  rude,  stellated 

crystals   formed  of  visible   grains.      But   in   severe 

i 

15  ^ 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


frosts,  though  the  sky  appears  perfectly  clear,  lamel- 
lar flakes  of  snow  of  the  most  regular  and  beautiful 
forms  are  always  seen  floating  in  the  air  and  spark- 
ling in  the  sunbeams;  and  the  snow  which  falls  in 
general  is  of  the  most  elegant  texture  and  appear- 
ance." 

Of  the  hidden  causes  which  originate  these  beauti- 
ful productions,  nothing  whatever  is  known.  Some 
have  imagined  that  they  are  to  be  found  in  the  forms 
of  the  primal  atoms  of  water,  which  are  assumed  to 
be  triangles  or  hexagons,  and  which,  therefore,  unit- 
ing by  their  similar  sides  or  edges,  must  give  rise  to 
crystals  of  regular  forms.  Others  find  the  solution 
in  magnetic  or  electrical  affinities,  which  are  sup- 
posed to  require  the  particles  to  unite  by  some  law 
of  polar  attraction.  But  even  if  these  theories  were 
demonstrated,  they  would  explain  nothing.  Why  the 
particles  must  unite  in  these  particular  methods,  or 
what  is  the  nature  of  attraction  itself,  no  man  knows. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say,  with  the  learned  and  devout 
navigator  who  has  done  most  to  make  us  acquainted 
with  these  beautiful  objects,  "  Some  of  the  general 
varieties  in  the  figures  of  the  crystals  may  be  re- 
ferred to  the  temperature  of  the  air ;  but  the  partic- 
ular and  endless  modifications  of  similar  classes  of 


Of 

SNOW    STRUCTURE. 

crystals  can  only  be  referred  to  the  will  and  pleasure 
of  the  great  First  Cause,  whose  works,  even  the 
most  minute  and  evanescent,  and  in  regions  the 
most  remote  from  human  observation,  are  altogether 
admirable." 


Snow  is  formed  in  the  higher  regions  of  our  atmos- 
phere. It  is  the  wild,  raging  water  of  the  ocean,  the 
gentle  rill  of  the  mountains,  the  beautiful  lake,  and 
the  vilest  pond  on  earth,  all  taxed  and  made  to  con- 
tribute at  the  bidding  of  their  Lord  to  this  depart- 
ment of  his  treasure-house.  They  send  up  their 
tribute  in  the  finest  particles  of  moisture  ;  the  steady 
contribution  coming  up  from  all  parts  of  the  globe 
indiscriminately.  No  matter  what  king  claims  the 
fields  and  rivers  and  mountains  to  minister  to  his 
wants,  our  God  makes  them  all  fill  his  treasury.  The 
vapor  comes  up  like  gold,  in  grains  and  nuggets.  It 
must  be  cast  into  the  King's  furnace  and  formed  into 
his  coin,  before  he  can  use  it.  Now  tell  me  how  he 
makes  snow  out  of  vapor.  You  can  answer  it  in  one 
sentence,  —  by  diminishing  the  heat.  Easily  said; 

but  who  can  do  it?     A  profound  philosopher,  in  re- 

s 

~~  17  ~ 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


marking  on  the  magnificent  glacial  phenomenon  of 
January,  1845,  when  for  eight  days  there  was  one  of 
the  most  wonderful  displays  of  the  effects  of  cold  per- 
haps ever  witnessed  in  our  latitude,  when  the  earth 
and  every  twig  seemed  covered  with  diamonds,  says 
of  it,  "  Job  speaks  of  the  balancing  of  the  clouds  as 
among  the  mysteries  of  ancient  philosophy.  But  how 
much  nicer  the  balancing  and  counter-balancing  of 
the  complicated  agencies  of  the  atmosphere,  in  order 
to  bring  out  this  glacial  miracle  in  full  perfection  ! 
What  wisdom  and  power  short  of  infinite  could  have 
brought  it  about  ?  "  It  is  equally  appropriate  to  ask, 
What  but  infinite  power  could  produce  all  the  agen- 
cies and  instruments  needed  in  creating  one  flake  of 
snow  ?  The  tiny  creature  says,  as  you  examine  it,  — 


The  hand  that  made  me  is  divine  I  " 

Kirk. 


18 


SNOW   STRUCTURE. 


The  First  Snow. 

LOVE  to  watch  the  first  soft  snow, 

As  it  slowly  saileth  down, 
Purer  and  whiter  than  the  pearls 
That  grace  a  monarch's  crown; 
Though  winter  wears  a  freezing  look 
And  many  a  surly  frown. 

It  lighteth  like  the  feathery  down 

Upon  the  naked  trees, 
And  on  the  pale  and  withered  flowers 

That  swing  in  every  breeze ; 
And  they  are  clothed  in  such  bright  robes 

As  summer  never  sees. 

It  bringeth  pleasant  memories  — 

The  falling,  falling  snow  — 
Of  neighing  steeds,  and  jingling  bells, 

In  the  happy  long  ago, 
When  hopes  were  bright,  and  health  was  good, 

And  the  spirits  were  not  low. 

And  it  giveth  many  promises 
Of  quiet  joys  in  store, 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Of  bliss  around  the  blazing  hearth 

When  daylight  is  no  more,  — 
Such  bliss  as  nowhere  else  hath  lived 

Since  the  Eden  days  were  o'er. 

God  bless  the  eye  that  views,  with  mine, 

The  falling  snow  to-day; 
May  Truth  her  pure  white  mission  spread 

Before  its  searching  ray, 
And  lead,  with  dazzling  garments,  toward 

The  "  strait  and  narrow  way." 

Julia  H.  Scott. 


Pcboan. 

,  o'er  all  the  dreary  North-land, 
Mighty  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Breathing  on  the  lakes  and  rivers, 
Into  stone  had  changed  their  waters ; 

From  his  hair  he  shook  the  snow-flakes 

Till  the  plains  were  strewn  with  whiteness, 

One  uninterrupted  level, 

As  if,  stooping,  the  Creator 

With  his  hand  had  smoothed  them  over. 

j  Longfellow. 


20 


(it  £orb  Ijatb  |»s  foag  in  %  fobirlfcrinb  nnb  in  tbt  storm. —  Itabunt  1 : 3. 


BEDIENCE  to  law  is  apparent  in 
all  the  works  of  the  Creator. 
However  varied  or  complicated 
their  structure,  however  intri- 
cate their  motions,  however 
B^S.  multiform  their  aspects,  there  is 
an  all-wise  design  pervading  them,  a  clue 
running  through  all  diversities,  and  re- 
ducing all  to  unity  arid  harmony  in  the 
grand  scheme  of  the  universe.  The  Lord  hath  his 
way  in  them  all ;  and  that  is  the  single  line  of  right- 
eousness and  beneficence. 

Amid  the  endless  varieties  of  the  snow  crystals  a 
singular  law  of  unity  is  apparent.  It  is  the  angle  of 
sixty  degrees,  or  some  multiple  of  it.  This  is  one- 
sixth  of  the  complete  circle ;  hence  the  hexiform  or 

i 

23  ' 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


six-sided  configuration  of  its  prisms  and  plates.  It  is 
curious  to  glance  over  the  patterns  which  we  exhibit, 
and  trace  the  operations  of  this  law.  Let  the  con- 
gealing vapor  assume  what  fantastic  shapes  it  will, 
let  it  riot  in  the  profusion  of  its  beautiful  efflorations, 
yet  it  can  never  escape  the  control  of  that  central 
attraction  which  binds  them  all  in  one.  Hence  their 
name,  flakes,  i.  e.,  flocks ;  the  fleecy  crystals,  though 
spreading  abroad  each  in  its  utmost  individual  lib- 
erty, being  still  retained  within  one  ownership  and 
belonging  to  one  fold. 

Like  this  law  of  unity  in  nature  is  God's  great  law 
of  love  in  his  moral  realm.  It  is  the  principle  of 
order  and  harmony  throughout  his  intelligent  uni- 
verse. God's  own  nature  is  love,  and  it  reigns 
among  all  the  shining  ranks  of  heaven.  And  in  the 
numberless  worlds  which  fill  immensity,  and  through 
the  utmost  variety  of  capacities  and  grades  of  beings, 
it  needs  but  the  fulfillment  of  this  law  to  secure  uni- 
versal joy.  Love  is  the  one  principle  which  binds  all 
individuals  and  provinces  of  his  rational  kingdom  to 
each  other,  and  each  to  his  throne. 


One  great  law  of  crystallization  controls  the  whole 
snow  world.     Every  flake  has  a  skeleton  as  distinct 


24 


UNITY   IN  DIVERSITY. 


as  the  human  skeleton,  and  yet  the  individual  flake 
is  as  different  from  its  neighbor  as  man  is  from  his. 
The  fundamental  law  of  the  snow  is  to  crystallize 
in  three,  or  some  multiple  of  three.  All  its  angles 
must  be  sixty,  or  one  hundred  and  twenty.  All  its 
prisms  and  pyramids  must  be  triangular  or  hexag- 
onal; whether  spicular,  or  pyramidal,  or  lamellar,  it 
ever  conforms  to  its  own  great  law  of  order,  and 
thus  conveys  delight  to  the  eye,  and  most  delight 
to  him  who,  having  pleasure  in  the  works  of  God, 
searches  them  out. 

Some  men  reproach  the  Protestant  Church  for  its 
various  sects.  But  let  such  men  examine  God's 
works.  Unity  in  variety  is  the  law  of  the  snow. 
There  is  a  Trinity  in  it.  Every  snow-flake  imitates 
its  Creator  by  being  three  in  one.  It  has  a  stern 
basis  of  fundamental  doctrine ;  and  it  would  excom- 
municate any  snow-flake  that  tried  to  stand  on  any 
other.  But  around  that  fundamental  unity  is  the 
free  play  of  individual  peculiarities.  All  snow-flakes 
are  alike  essentially,  while  probably  no  two  are  iden- 
tical in  details. 


25 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


The  Snow  Shower. 

i-TILL  falling,  falling,  falling  fast, 
These  messengers  have  come  at  last, 
All  floating  through  the  chilly  air, 
On  softest  pinions,  white  and  fair, 

Each  like  a  dove  with  downy  breast, 

High  fluttering  o'er  its  icy  nest. 

So  coming,  coming,  coming  still 
From  heaven,  what  daily  blessings  fill 
Life's  chalice  with  full  many  a  joy, 
Which  Time's  cold  hand  can  not  destroy ; 
So  pure,  so  holy  at  their  birth, 
They  sweetly  charm  the  ills  of  earth. 

Upon  my  heart,  when  lone  and  still, 
As  freely  may  pure  gifts  distill, 
Awakening  strains  of  sweetest  peace, 
Whose  melody  shall  never  cease, 
Till,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  time, 
They  swell  heaven's  harmony  sublime. 

Drown. 


26 


UNITY    IN   DIVERSITY. 


To  a  Snow-Flake. 

HOU  rain-drop,  snow-crystalled,  most  fragile  and  fair ! 

Borne  from  the  far  cloud-land  and  fashioned  in  air, 
i 

What  measures  befit  thee  ?   Some  song  of  the  spheres 
Should  chant  out  thy  praise,  with  the  swift-rolling  years. 

Like  a  gem  cast  in  setting  from  heaven's  bright  floor, 
Thou  art  pure,  and  all  perfect,  like  the  One  we  adore. 

Three  stars  make  thy  glory,  —  the  mystical  sign 

Of  the  Three  named  in  heaven.  —  One  Spirit  Divine  ! 

I  behold  thee  afar,  lest  a  warm  human  touch, 

And  the  breath  of  my  singing,  with  praise  over-much, 

Should  make  thee  to  perish,  thy  grace  disappear, 
And  thy  soft  beauty  vanish,  dissolved  in  a  tear. 

Like  thee  I  have  come  from  a  realm  far  away, 
And  like  thee  I  shall  live  but  a  brief  mortal  day. 

Like  thee  I  shall  find  neither  haven  nor  rest, 

And  descend  like  thee,  once,  to  the  Earth's  frozen  breast  • 

But  thou  shalt  move  onward,  completing  God's  will 
Through  the  courses  of  Nature,  thy  round  to  fulfill ; 


27 


8NOW-FL* 

A  drop  in  the  river  —  a  flake  mid  the  snows  — 
A  gleam  in  the  rainbow  —  the  dew  on  the  rose. 

Then  go,  little  snow-flake  !  I  prize  thee  not  less, 
That  our  paths  must  divide,  and  I  onward  must  press ; 

For  I  must  mount  upward  yet  higher  and  higher, 
Nevermore  to  descend  with  heart-baffled  desire  ; 

For  the  light  of  God's  Being  is  kindled  in  mine, 
And  my  soul  in  his  presence  for  ever  must  shine, 

Where  the  purest  snow-crystal  looks  tarnished  and  dim, 
By  the  white  jasper  walls;  where  the  saints'  choral  hymn 

Floats  up  day  and  night  through  the  fair  golden  street, 
God's  praise  on  their  lips,  and  their  crowns  at  his  feet, 

Exchanging  Earth's  crosses,  the  frost  and  the  blight, 
The  snows  of  the  valley,  and  mists  of  the  night, 

The  brightest  earth-blossoms,  all  the  world  can  afford, 
For  Sharon's  red  rose,  and  the  smile  of  the  Lord. 

8.  D.  c. 


Iforb,  Snofa  anb  Sapors,  fnlfilling  Ins  focrb. —  |}salm  148  :  8. 


STRIKING  characteristic  of  the 
snow  crystal  is  its  perfection  of 
form.  Whatever  be  the  type  of 
^  its  structure,  that  type  is  com- 
pleted with  the  utmost  regular- 
ity and  nicety.  Every  angle  is 
of  the  prescribed  size, — not  a 
degree  more  or  less.  The  num- 

T< 

ber  of  parts  is  uniform.  You  will  never 
see  a  star  with  five  rays,  nor  seven.  With 
a  precision  which  art  would  strive  in  vain  to  excel, 
the  pattern  is  carried  out  in  detail  with  the  most 
exact  symmetry,  and  in  the  most  nicely-adjusted 
proportions. 

It  is  so  in  every  snow-crystal,  unless   broken   or 
otherwise  injured.     G-od  has  no  show  specimens  in  his 


31 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


cabinets,  elaborately  finished,  while  the  mass  of  them 
are  left  imperfect.  There  are  no  obscure  corners,  no 
back  apartments,  where  the  half-formed,  ill-shapen, 
abortive  portions  of  his  work  are  gathered,  out  of 
sight.  The  tiniest  speck  that  is  lost  in  the  countless 
multitudes  that  robe  the  earth  is  as  perfect  as  if  the 
skill  of  the  Creator  had  been  expended  upon  this 
alone.  The  flake  that  falls  in  the  vast  polar  solitudes, 
where  no  eye  of  man  will  ever  see  it,  or  that  plunges 
to  instant  death  in  the  ocean,  is  wrought  with  as 
much  care  and  fidelity  as  if  it  were  to  sparkle  in  a 
regal  crown. 

If  there  be  apparent  exceptions  to  this  general 
statement,  they  are  only  apparent,  and  even  these 
confirm  the  fact.  In  ordinary  storms,  large  portions 
of  the  flakes  are  broken,  sometimes  reduced  almost  to 
shapeless  dust.  Often  the  flakes,  coming  in  contact 
with  each  other,  adhere,  and  constitute  masses  which 
are  very  irregular.  Sometimes,  however,  this  union 
gives  rise  to  regular  forms,  as  twelve-pointed  stars, 
which  are  believed  to  be  two  hexagons,  the  one  of 
them  overlapping  the  other.  (Page  11  fig.  22,  23.) 
A  few  cases  have  been  observed  where  a  ray  or  point 
of  a  star  has  become  the  germinating  center  of  a  twin 
or  parasitic  star,  forming  together  a  structure  anoma- 

L  I 

r  82  ~" 


PERFECTION. 


Ions  as  a  whole,  though  regular  in  each  of  its  indi- 
vidual parts.  (Page  99  fig.  2.) 

This  universal  perfection  of  figure  results  from  the 
constancy  and  uniformity  of  the  laws  which  govern 
the  process  of  crystallization.  But  it  is  not  too  much 
to  go  beyond  these,  and  behold  a  Divine  mind  which 
loves  beauty  for  its  own  sake,  and  delights  to  sow  it 
broadcast  throughout  creation.  Though  there  be  no 
human  eye  to  behold  and  to  admire,  they  will  not 
therefore  be  unbeheld.  It  is  not  true  that 

"  Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." 

The  universe  is  fuU  of  conscious  intelligence,  from 
him  who  is  the  "  Father  of  lights,"  downward  through 
endless  ranks  of  being,  and  the  hymn  of  admiring 
praise  perpetually  ascends  to  him  for  the  perfection 
and  glory  of  his  works. 


Obey  God.  His  laws  to  the  snow-flake  are  de- 
signed to  make  it  beautiful  and  useful.  So  are  his 
laws  to  you.  He  tells  the  flake  to  put  on  such  a  form 
and  go  to  such  a  place,  and  it  goes  without  murmur- 
ing or  reluctance.  Obey  God,  and  you  will  put  on 
the  beauty  of  holiness  and  bless  the  world.  Kirk. 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


The    ^mow-Flake. 

,  if  I  fall,  will  it  be  my  lot 
To  be  cast  in  some  low  and  lonely  spot, 
To  melt,  and  to  sink  unseen  and  forgot? 
And  there  will  my  course  be  ended  ?  " 
'Twas  thus  a  feathery  snow-flake  said, 
As  down  through  measureless  space  it  strayed, 
Or  as,  half  by  dalliance,  half  afraid, 
It  seemed  in  mid-air  suspended. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  the  earth  ;  "  thou  shalt  not  lie 
Neglected  and  lone  on  my  lap  to  die, 
Thou  pure  and  delicate  child  of  the  sky  ; 

For  thou  wilt  be  safe  in  my  keeping. 
But  then,  I  must  give  thee  a  lovelier  form  ;  — 
Thou  wilt  not  be  a  part  of  the  wintry  storm, 
But  revive,  when  the  sunbeams  are  yellow  and  warm, 

And  the  flowers  from  my  bosom  are  peeping  ! 

"  And  then  thou  shalt  have  thy  choice,  to  be 
Restored  in  the  lily  that  decks  the  lea, 
In  the  jessamine  bloom,  the  anemone, 

Or  aught  of  thy  spotless  whiteness;  — 
To  melt,  and  be  cast,  in  a  glittering  bead, 
With  the  pearls  that  the  night  scatters  over  the  mead, 
In  the  cup  where  the  bee  and  the  fire-fly  feed, 

Regaining  thy  dazzling  brightness. 


34 


PERFECTION. 


"  I'll  let  thee  awake  from  thy  transient  sleep, 
When  Viola's  mild  blue  eye  shall  weep, 
In  a  tremulous  tear;    or,  a  diamond,  leap 

In  a  drop  from  the  unlocked  fountain; 
Or,  leaving  the  valley,  the  meadow,  and  heath, 
The  streamlet,  the  flowers,  and  all  beneath, 
Go  up,  and  be  wove  in  the  silvery  wreath 

Encircling  the  brow  of  the  mountain. 

"  Or,  wouldst  thou  return  to  a  home  in  the  skies, 
To  shine  in  the  Iris,  I'll  let  thee  arise, 
And  appear  in  the  many  and  glorious  dyes 

A  pencil  of  sunbeams  is  blending; 
But  true,  fair  thing,  as  my  name  is  Earth, 
I'll  give  thee  a  new  and  a  vernal  birth, 
When  thou  shalt  recover  thy  primal  worth, 

And  never  regret  descending." 

"  Then  I  will  drop  ! "  said  the  trusting  flake ; 
"  But  bear  it  in  mind  that  the  choice  I  make, 
Is  not  in  the  flowers  nor  the  dew  to  wake, 

Nor  the  mist  that  shall  pass  with  morning ; 
For,  things  of  thyself,  they  will  die  with  thee ; 
But  those  that  are  lent  from  on  high,  like  me, 
Must  rise,  — and  will  live,  from  the  dust  set  free, 

To  the  regions  above  returning. 

85 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


"  And,  if  true  to  thy  word  and  just  thou  art, 
Like  the  spirit  that  dwells  in  the  holiest  heart, 
Unsullied  by  thee,  thou  wilt  let  me  depart, 

And  return  to  my  native  heaven. 
For  I  would  be  placed  in  the  beautiful  bow, 
From  time  to  time  in  thy  sight  to  glow. 
So  thou  mayst  remember  the  Flake  of  Snow, 

By  the  promise  that  God  has  given ! " 

H.  F.  Gould. 


Mabefs    Wonber. 

HERE  must  be  flowers  in  heaven  ! " 

Little  Mabel  wondering  cried, 
As  she  gazed  through  the  frosted  window, — 
"  Ah  yes,  ah  yes,"  I  replied. 

"  And  every  single  blossom 

Is  white  as  white  can  be  ! " 
"Perhaps;"  —  I  carelessly  answered. 

"  When  we  get  there,  we  shall  see." 

"  And  oh,  they  have  so  many  ! 

Why,  every  tree  must  be  full ! " 
"  Of  course,  —  Spring  lasts  for  ever 

In  heaven,"  I  said,  so  dull. 


36 


PERFECTION. 


"  Do  the  angels  get  tired  of  flowers  ?  " 

Asked  she,  with  a  gentle  sigh  ; 
"  For  see,  oh  see,  they  are  throwing 

Whole  handfuls  down  from  the  sky  !  " 

I  sprang  to  the  frosted  window, 

To  see  what  the  child  could  mean  :  — 

The  ground  was  covered  with  snow-flakes, 
And  the  air  was  full  between. 

I  kissed  my  innocent  darling, 

And  speedily  set  her  right; 
While  I  prayed  that  her  heart  might  ever 

Be  pure  as  the  snow  and  as  light. 

H.   E.  B. 


It 


I  T  snows  !   it  snows  !   from  out  the  sky 
The  feathered  flakes,  how  fast  they  fly! 
Like  little  birds,  that  don't  know  why, 
They're  on  the  chase  from  place  to  place, 

While  neither  can  another  trace. 

It  snows  !   it  snows  !   a  merry  play 

Is  o'er  us  on  this  heavy  day. 

37 


Like  dancers  in  an  airy  hall 
That  has  not  room  to  hold  them  all, 
While  some  keep  up,  and  others  fall, 
The  atoms  shift,  then  thick  and  swift 
They  drive  along  to  form  the  drift 
That,  weaving  up,  so  dazzling  white, 
Is  like  a  rising  wall  of  light. 

But  now  the  wind  comes  whistling  loud, 

To  snatch  and  waft  it  as  a  cloud, 

Or  giant  phantom  in  a  shroud. 

It  spreads ;    it  curls ;    it  mounts  and  whirls  ; 

At  length  a  mighty  wing  unfurls ; 

And  then,  away !   but  where,  none  knows, 

Or  ever  will.     It  snows  !   it  snows  ! 

To-morrow  will  the  storm  be  done; 

Then  out  will  come  the  golden  sun, 

And  we  shall  see  upon  the  run 

Before  his  beams,  in  sparkling  streams, 

What  now  a  curtain  o'er  him  seems. 

And  thus  with  life  it  ever  goes  — 

'Tis  shade  and  shine  !  — •  It  snows  !   it  snows  ! 

H.  F,  Gould. 


Jjer  Uajaritrs  fern  purer  than  Snofo.  —  Jfanuntaiiona  4  : 1. 


URTTY  is  one  of  the  most  strik- 
ing characteristics  of  the  new- 
fallen  snow.  "It  is,"  says  Sturm, 
"  a  result  of  the  congregated 
reflections  of  light  from  the  in- 
numerable small  faces  of  the 
crystals.  The  same  effect  is 
produced  when  ice  is  crushed  to  frag- 
ments. It  is  extremely  light  and  thin, 
consequently  full  of  pores,  and  these  con- 
tain air  ;  it  is  farther  composed  of  parts  more  or  less 
compact,  and  such  a  substance  does  not  admit  the 
sun's  rays  to  pass,  neither  does  it  absorb  them  ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  reflects  them  very  powerfully,  and  this 
gives  it  the  dazzling  white  appearance  we  see  in  it." 


41 


Or 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


You  shall  look  out  upon  a  gray,  frozen  earth,  and  a 
gray,  chilling  sky.  The  trees  stretch  forth  naked 
branches  imploringly.  The  air  pinches  and  pierces 
you ;  a  homesick  desolation  clasps  around  your  shiv- 
ering, shrinking  frame,  and  then  God  works  a  miracle. 
The  windows  of  heaven  are  opened,  and  there  comes 
forth  a  blessing.  The  gray  sky  unlocks  her  treasures, 
and  softness  and  whiteness  and  warmth  and  beauty 
float  gently  down  upon  the  evil  and  the  good. 
Through  all  the  long  night,  while  you  sleep,  the  work 
goes  noiselessly  on.  Earth  puts  off  her  earthliness ; 
and  when  the  morning  comes,  she  stands  before  you 
in  the  white  robes  of  a  saint.  The  sun  hallows  her 
with  baptismal  touch,  and  she  is  glorified.  There  is 
no  longer  on  her  pure  brow  any  thing  common  or 
unclean.  The  Lord  God  hath  wrapped  her  about 
with  light  as  with  a  garment.  His  divine  charity 
hath  covered  the  multitude  of  her  sins,  and  there  is 
no  scar  or  stain,  no  "  mark  of  her  shame,"  or  "  s"eal  of 
her  sorrow."  The  far-off  hills  swell  their  white  purity 
against  the  pure  blue  of  the  heaven.  The  sheeted 
splendor  of  the  fields  sparkles  back  a  thousand  suns 
for  one.  The  trees  lose  their  nakedness  and  misery 

42 


PURITY. 


and  desolation,  and  every  slenderest  twig  is  clothed 
upon  with  glory. 

Wheat-fields,  corn-fields,  and  meadow-lands  are  all 
alike  wrapped  by  its  dazzling  mantle.  Here  and 
there  some  straggling  weeds  refuse  to  be  hidden,  and 
stand  up  in  unsightly  contrast  with  the  pure  white 
surface  around  them.  The  stone  walls,  entirely  con- 
cealed, only  look  like  a  low  ridge ;  but  the  snow 
can  not  contrive  to  cover  up  the  rail-fences,  but 
only  heap  up  a  bank  by  their  side.  The  woods,  with 
their  bare  trunks  and  intermingling  branches,  cast 
a  shadow,  notwithstanding  the  absence  of  leaves, 
and  we  are  glad  again  to  come  into  the  warm  sun- 
shine. Evergreens  do  not  brighten  a  winter  land- 
scape. They  seem  as  if  they  were  mourning  in 
sympathy  with  their  spoiled  brethren  of  the  forest ; 
and  look  dusky  and  almost  black,  like  somber  senti- 
nels along  the  road.  The  snow  sparkles  with  its 
crystals.  What  purity  !  "  Whiter  than  snow  !  "  The 
longing  of  the  soul  for  purity,  the  faith  in  the 
cleansing  power  that  is  able  thus  to  purify,  are 
breathed  in  the  prayer,  "  Wash  me,  and  I  shall  be 
whiter  than  snow  !  " 

The  deep,  deep  snow  offers  no  temptations  to 
wander  in  the  fields,  or  step  away  from  the  beaten 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


track.  One  well-defined  road,  from  which  the  driver 
reluctantly  turns  aside  on  meeting  another  sleigh, 
has  alone  broken  the  crust  on  its  surface,  and  deter- 
mines its  depth.  Foot-passengers  step  out  into  the 
deep  snow,  and  wait  till  the  sleigh  passes,  but  are 
glad  at  once  to  step  back  again.  How  well  would 
it  be  if  Christians  thus  dreaded  to  step  aside  from 
the  narrow  way  that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  were  as 
ready  to  return  to  its  secure  footing,  —  the  path 
beaten  by  blessed  foot-prints  !  Beecher. 


What  comes  from  heaven  is  pure  ;  but  the  tendency 
is  to  soil  it,  and  that  which  keeps  nearest  heaven 
most  escapes  the  pollution  of  earth.  At  the  foot  of 
the  Alps  you  find  the  roaring,  muddy  stream,  the 
clay-stained  snow.  But  on  the  summit  of  Mt.  Blanc 
is  a  pure  robe  of  celestial  white,  never  stained,  only 
sometimes  covered  with  a  roseate  gauze  to  salute  the 
setting  sun.  Kirk. 


The  snow  is  very  beautiful  when  it  has  first  fallen. 
Many  of  our  poets  have  had  recourse  to  the  snow- 
flake  for  some  of  their  finest  poetical  images  ;  nor  do 


44 


PURITY. 


I  know  a  fitter  emblem  of  innocence  and  purity  than 
a  falling  flake,  ere  it  receives  the  stain  of  earth. 
There  are  but  few  things  with  which  we  can  com- 
pare snow  for  purity.  The  Psalmist  says,  "  He  giv- 
eth  the  snow  like  wool ;  he  scattereth  the  hoar  frost 
like  ashes."  "  Wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than 
snow."  Milton  has  made  beautiful  allusion  to  it  in 
his  hymn  on  the  Nativity,  where  he  says,  — 

"  It  was  the  winter  mild, 

While  the  heaven-born  Child 
All  meanly  wrapped  in  the  rude  manger  lies; 

Nature  in  her  awe  to  Him 

Had  defied  her  gaudy  trim, 
With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize. 

It  was  no  season  then  for  her 

To  wanton  with  the  sun,  her  lusty  paramour. 

"  Only  with  speeches  fair 

She  woos  the  gentle  air 
To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow ; 

And  on  her  naked  shame, 

Pollute  with  sinful  blame, 
The  saintly  vail  of  maiden  white  to  throw, 

Confounded  that  her  Maker's  eyes 

Should  look  so  near  upon  her  foul  deformities." 

T.  Miller. 

I 

45  '<• 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Die    Snow-Wreath. 

,  what  is  so  pure,  so  soft,  or  so  bright, 
As  a  wreath  of  the  new-fallen  snow ! 
It  seems  as  if  brushed  from  the  garments  of  light, 
To  fall  on  us  mortals  below. 


But  here  is  no  home  for  thee,  child  of  the  sky  ; 

Thy  purity  here  must  decay, 
Thy  being  be  transient,  thy  beauty  all  die, 

Nor  a  trace  of  thy  loveliness  stay. 

•  Go,  go  to  the  mountain-top,  —  there  make  thy  nest ; 

'Tis  nearer  thy  own  native  home ; 
And  live  on  its  peak  like  a  silvery  crest, 
Where  nothing  to  soil  thee  can  come. 

This  emblem  —  how  apt  of  a  virtuous  mind 

Made  pure  by  the  Spirit  divine ! 
Like  a  snow-wreath  'tis  marred  in  a  world  so  unkind, 

Fit  only  in  heaven  to  shine. 

J.  B.  Waterbury. 


40 


PURITY. 


The   First   Snow. 

0-DAY  has  been  a  pleasant  day, 
Despite  the  cold  and  snow : 
Sabbath  stillness  filled  the  air, 
And  pictures  slumbered  every  where, 
Around,  above,  below. 

We  woke  at  dawn  and  saw  the  trees 

Before  our  windows  white; 
Their  limbs  were  clad  with  snow-like  bark, 
Save  that  the  under  sides  were  dark, 

Like  bars  against  the  light. 

The  fence  was  white  around  the  house, 

The  lamp  before  the  door; 
The  porch  was  glazed  with  pearled  sleet, 
Great  drifts  lay  in  the  silent  street, 

The  street  was  seen  no  more  ! 

Long  trenches  had  been  roughly  dug, 
And  giant  foot-prints  made; 

But  few  were  out;  the  streets  were  bare; 

I  saw  but  one  pale  wanderer  there, 
And  he  was  like  a  shade  ! 


47 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


I  seemed  to  walk  another  world, 
Where  all  was  still  and  blest; 

The  cloudless  sky,  the  stainless  snows,  — 

It  was  a  vision  of  repose, 

A  dream  of  heavenly  rest,  — 

A  dream  the  holy  night  completes  ; 

For  now  the  moon  hath  come, 
I  stand  in  heaven  with  folded  wings, 
A  free  and  happy  soul  that  sings 

When  all  things  else  are  dumb  ! 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard. 


HROUG-H  the  hushed  air  the  whitening  shower 

descends, 

^£*     At  first  thin-wavering,  till  at  last  the  flakes 
«>     Fall  broad  and  wide  and  fast,  dimming  the  day 
With  a  continual  flow.     The  cherished  fields 
Put  on  their  winter  robe  of  purest  white  ; 
'Tis  brightness  all,  save  where  the  new  snow  melts 
Along  the  mazy  current.     Low  the  woods 
Bow  their  hoar  head;  and,  ere  the  languid  sun 
Faint  from  the  west  emits  its  evening  ray, 
Earth's  universal  face,  deep-hid  and  chill, 
Is  one  wide  dazzling  waste,  that  buries  wide 
The  works  of  man. 

Thomson. 
48 


|"orir  gifattjj  JSnnfai  liht  feool.  —  |)saIm4Z:10. 


OLD  and  dreary  as  winter  is, 
it  is  not  devoid  of  interest  to 
the  man  of  taste  and  Christian 
sentiment.  Look  at  the  del- 
icate snow-flake.  With  what 
grace  of  motion  has  God  en- 
dowed it  !  How  childlike,  gen- 
tly, peacefully,  confidingly  the 
little  creature  comes  down  in- 
to our  turbulent  earth  !  It  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  conceive  that  it  comes  as  an  attendant  on 
some  angel,  whose  movements  it  imitates.  Kirk. 


We  have  sat  and  watched  the  fall  of  snow  until 
our  head  grew  dizzy,  for  it  is  a  bewitching  sight  to 
persons  speculatively  inclined.  There  is  an  aimless 
way  of  riding  down,  a  simple,  careless,  thoughtless 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


motion,  that  leads  you  to  think  that  nothing  can  be 
more  nonchalant  than  snow.  And  then  it  rests  upon 
a  leaf  or  alights  upon  the  ground,  with  such  a  dainty 
step,  so  softly,  so  quietly,  that  you  almost  pity  its 
virgin  helplessness.  If  you  reach  out  your  hand  to 
help  it,  your  very  touch  destroys  it.  It  dies  in  your 
palm,  and  departs  as  a  tear. 

Nowhere  is  snow  so  beautiful  as  when  one  sojourns 
in  a  good  old-fashioned  mansion  in  the  country,  bright 
and  warm,  full  of  home  joy  and  quiet.  You  look  out 
through  large  windows  and  see  one  of  those  flights 
of  snow  in  a  still,  calm  day,  that  make  the  air  seem 
as  if  it  were  full  of  white  millers  or  butterflies,  flut- 
tering down  from  heaven.  There  is  something  ex- 
tremely beautiful  in  the  motion  of  these  large  flakes 
of  snow.  They  do  not  make  haste,  nor  plump 
straight  down  with  a  dead  fall,  like  a  whistling  rain- 
drop. They  seem  to  be  at  leisure ;  and  descend  with 
that  quiet,  wavering,  sideway  motion  which  birds 
sometimes  use  when  about  to  alight.  You  think  you 
are  reading ;  and  so  you  are,  but  it  is  not  in  the  book 
that  lies  open  before  you.  The  silent,  dreamy  hour 
passes  away,  and  you  have  not  felt  it  pass.  The 
trees  are  dressed  with  snow.  The  long  arms  of 
evergreens  bend  with  its  weight  ;  the  rails  are 


62 


o °\ 


doubled,  and  every  post  wears  a  starry  crown.  The 
well-sweep,  the  bucket,  the  well-curb  are  fleeced 
over.  And  still  the  silent,  quivering  air  is  full  of 
trooping  flakes,  thousands  following  to  take  the  place 
of  all  that  fall.  The  ground  is  heaped,  the  paths  are 
gone,  the  road  is  hidden,  the  fields  are  leveled,  the 
eaves  of  buildings  jut  over,  and,  as  the  day  moves 
on,  the  fences  grow  shorter,  and  gradually  sink  from 
sight.  All  night  the  heavens  rain  crystal  flakes. 
Yet,  that  roof,  on  which  the  smallest  rain  pattered 
audible  music,  gives  no  sound.  There  is  no  echo  in 
the  stroke  of  snow,  until  it  waxes  to  an  avalanche 
and  slips  from  the  mountains.  Then  it  fills  the  air 
like  thunderbolts.  Beecher. 


Falling  snow  is  beautiful  in  a  forest.  It  comes 
wavering  down  among  the  trees  without  a  whisper, 
and  takes  to  the  ground  without  the  sound  of  a  foot- 
fall. Evergreen  trees  grow  intense  in  contrasts  of 
dark-green  ruffled  with  radiant  white.  Bush  and 
tree  are  powdered  and  banked  up.  Not  the  slight- 
est sound  is  made  in  all  the  work  which  fills  the 
woods  with  winter  soil  many  feet  deep.  When  the 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


morning  comes,  then  comes  the  sun  also.  The  storm 
has  gone  back  to  its  northern  nest  to  shed  its  feath- 
ers there.  The  air  is  still,  cold,  bright.  But  what  a 
glory  rests  upon  the  too  brilliant  earth !  Are  these 
the  January  leaves? — is  this  the  winter  efflorescence 
of  shrub  and  tree  ?  You  can  scarcely  look  for  the 
exceeding  brightness.  Trees  stand  up  against  the 
clear,  gray  sky,  brown  and  white  in  contrast,  as  if 
each  trunk  and  bough  and  branch  and  twig  had 
been  coated  with  ermine,  or  with  white  moss. 
There  is  an  exquisite  airiness  and  lightness  in  the 
masses  of  snow  on  trees  and  fences,  when  seen  just 
as  the  storm  left  them.  The  wind  or  sun  soon  dis- 
enchants the  magic  scene.  Ib- 


GRACE. 


The  Snoo7-Storm. 

:  NNOUNCED  by  all  the  trumpets  of  the  sky 
Arrives  the  snow,  and,  driving  o'er  the  fields, 

^f   Seems  no  where  to  alight ;  the  whited  air 
>io 

Hides  hills  and  woods,  the  river  and  the  heaven, 

And  vails  the  farm-house  at  the  garden's  end. 
The  sled  and  traveler  stopped,  the  courier's  feet 
Delayed,  all  friends  shut  out,  the  house-mates  sit 
Around  the  radiant  fireplace,  inclosed 
In  a  tumultuous  privacy  of  storm. 

Come  see  the  north-wind's  masonry. 
Out  of  an  unseen  quarry,  evermore 
Furnished  with  tile,  the  fierce  artificer 
Carves  his  white  bastions,  with  projected  roof 
Round  every  windward  stake,  or  tree,  or  door, 
Speeding,  the  myriad-handed,  his  wild  work 
So  fanciful,  so  savage;  naught  cares  he 
For  number  or  proportion.     Mockingly 
On  coop  or  kennel  he  hangs  Parian  wreaths; 
A  swan-like  form  invests  the  hidden  thorn ; 
Fills  up  the  farmer's  lane  from  wall  to  wall, 
Mauger  the  farmer's  sighs,  and  at  the  gate 
A  tapering  turret  overtops  the  work. 
And  when  his  hours  are  numbered,  and  the  world 
Is  all  his  own,  retiring  as  he  were  not, 


§G 


Leaves,  when  the  sun  appears,  astonished  Art 
To  mimic,  in  those  structures,  stone  by  stone, 
Built  in  an  age,  the  mad  wind's  night-work, 
The  frolic  architecture  of  the  snow. 

R.  W.  Emerson. 


The  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

f^r?  HE  night  brings  forth  the  morn ; 
^JL))   Of  the  cloud  is  lightning  born  ; 
From  out  the   darkest  earth  the  brightest  roses  grow; 
Bright  sparks  from  black  flints  fly: 
And  from  out  a  leaden  sky 
Comes  the  silvery-footed  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

The  wondering  air  grows  mute, 

As  her  pearly  parachute 
Cometh  slowly  down  from  heaven,  softly  floating  to  and  fro; 

And  the  earth  emits  no  sound, 

As  lightly  on  the  ground 
Leaps  the  silvery-footed  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

At  the  contact  of  her  tread, 
The  mountain's  festal  head 
As  with  chaplets  of  white  roses  seems  to  glow ; 


GRACE. 

And  its  furrowed  cheeks  grow  white, 
With  a  feeling  of  delight, 
At  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

As  she  wendeth  to  the  vale, 
The  longing  fields  grow  pale, 

The  tiny  streams  that  vein  them  cease  to  flow  j 
And  the  river  stays  its  tide, 
With  wonder  and  with  pride, 

To  gaze  upon  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

But  little  does  she  deem 

The  love  of  field  or  stream  ; 
She  is  frolicsome  and  lightsome-  as  the  roe ; 

She  is  here  and  she  is  there ; 

On  the  earth  or  in  the  air, 
Ever-changing,  floats  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

Now,  a  daring  climber,  she 
Mounts  the  tallest  forest  tree,  — 

Out  along  the  dizzy  branches  doth  she  go ! 
And  her  tassels,  silver- white, 
Down-swinging  through  the  night, 

Mark  the  pillow  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

Now  she  climbs  the  mighty  mast, 
Where  the  sailor-boy  at  last 
Dreams  of  home,  in  his  hammock  down  below ; 

67 


at 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


There  she  watches  in  his  stead, 
Till  the  morning  light  shines  red, 
Then  evanishes  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

Or,  crowning  with  white  fire 

The  minster's  topmost  spire 
With  a  glory  such  as  sainted  foreheads  show, 

She  teaches  fanes  are  given 

Thus  to  lift  the  heart  to  heaven, 
There  to  melt  like  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

Now  above  the  loaded  wain, 
Now  beneath  the  thundering  train, 

Doth  she  hear  the  sweet  bells  tinkle  and  the  snorting  en- 
gine blow ; 

Now  she  flutters  on  the  breeze, 
Till  the  branches  of  the  trees 

Catch  the  tossed  and   tangled   tresses  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
Snow. 

Now  an  infant's  balmy  breath 
Gives  the  Spirit  seeming  death, 

When  adown  her  pallid  features  fair,  Decay's  damp  dew- 
drops  flowj 

Now,  again  her  strong  assault 
Can  make  an  army  halt, 
And  trench  itself  in  terror  'gainst  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

I 
68 


GRACE. 


At  times,  with  gentle  power, 

In  visiting  some  bower, 
She  scarce  will  hide  the  holly's  red,  the  blackness  of  the  sloe; 

But  ah  !  her  awful  might, 

When  down  some  Alpine  hight 
The  hapless  hamlet  sinks  before  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

On  a  feather  she  floats  down 

The  turbid  rivers  brown, — 
Down  to  meet  the  drifting  navies  of  the  winter-freighted  foe; 

Then  swift  o'er  the  azure  walls 

Of  the  awful  waterfalls, 
Where  Niagara  leaps  roaring,  glides  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

With  her  flag  of  truce  unfurled, 

She  makes  peace  o'er  all  the  world, — 
Makes  bloody  battle  cease  awhile,  and  war's  unpitying  woe ; 

Till  its  hollow  womb  within 

The  deep-mouthed  culverin 
Incloses,  like  a  cradled  child,  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

In  her  spotless  linen  hood, 

Like  the  other  sisterhood, 

She  braves  the  open  cloister  where  the  psalm  soupds  sweet 
and  low, 

When  some  sister's  bier  doth  pass 

From  the  minster  and  the  mass, 
Soon  to  sink  into  the  earth,  like  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 


59 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


But  at  times  so  full  of  joy, 
She  will  play  with  girl  and  boy, 
Fly  from  out  their  tingling  fingers,  like  white  fire-balls  on 

the  foe  ; 

She  will  burst  in  feathery  flakes ; 
And  the  ruin  that  she  makes 

Will  but  wake  the  crackling  laughter  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
Snow. 

Or,  in  furry  mantle  dressed, 

She  will  fondle  on  her  breast 
The  embryo  buds  awaiting  the  near  Spring's  mysterious  throe 

So  fondly  that  the  first 

Of  the  blossoms  that  outburst 

Will  be  called  the  beauteous  daughter  of  the  Spirit  of  the 
Snow. 

Ah  !   would  that  we  were  sure 

Of  hearts  so  warmly  pure, 
In  all  the  winter  weather  that  this  lesser  life  must  know; 

That  when  shines  the  Sun  of  Love 

From  a  wa.rmer  realm  above, 
In  its  life  we  may  dissolve,  like  the  Spirit  of  the  Snow. 

Dublin  University  Magazine. 


.ill 


\t  £atb  mabe  rbm>  ibing  beautiful  in  (us  tinu.  —  CccUsiastts  3:11. 


NOW  is  the  adornment  of  win- 
ter. Its  beauty  is  a  compensa- 
tion for  the  loss  of  the  flowers 
and  foliage  of  the  milder  sea- 
sons. When  Nature  has  put  off 
her  green  robes,  when  the  fields 
have  become  bare,  the  streams 
and  lakes  ice-bound,  and  the 
hum  of  the  bees  and  the  songs 
of  the  birds  are  no  longer  heard, 

then  God  opens  his  treasure-house  and  brings  forth 
jewels  for  the  coronation  of  the  year.  He  throws 
over  the  earth  a  robe  of  purest  white,  he  festoons 
each  shrub  and  tree  with  diamonds  and  pearls,  and 
bids  every  beholder  rejoice  in  these  manifestations 


63 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


of  his  skill.  For  all  the  beauty  of  the  earth  is  but 
the  outward  expression  of  the  beauty  which  dwells 
eternal  in  the  Divine  Mind.  Each  six-leaved  blossom 
of  winter  had  its  pattern  in  his  thought  before  it  was 
created ;  and  all  the  diversities  of  its  forms  show  the 
wealth  of  his  resources  even  in  the  smallest  things. 
So  God  has  not  left  himself  "  without  witness  "  for  a 
single  season.  Each  has  its  message  from  heaven, 
unfolding  his  glories,  and  bidding  man  behold  and 
adore. 


All  the  roofs  are  blanketed  with  snow ;  all  the 
fences  are  bordered.  .  Every  gate-post  is  statuesque : 
every  wood-pile  is  a  marble  quarry.  Harshest  out- 
lines are  softened.  Instead  of  angles  and  ruggedness 
and  squalor,  there  are  billowy,  fleecy  undulations. 
Nothing  so  rough,  so  common,  so  ugly,  but  it  has 
been  transfigured  into  newness  of  life.  Every  where 
the  earth  has  received  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy 
for  mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of 
heaviness.  Without  sound  of  hammer  or  ax,  with- 
out the  grating  of  saw  or  the  click  of  chisel,  prose  has 
been  sculptured  into  poetry.  The  actual  has  put  on 
the  silver  vail  of  the  ideal.  Gail  Hamilton. 


BEAUTY. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  paint  the  glory  of  the 
northern  winter  forests.  Every  tree,  laden  with  the 
purest  snow,  resembled  a  Gothic  fountain  of  bronze, 
covered  with  frozen  spray,  through  which  only  sug- 
gestive glimpses  of  its  delicate  tracery  could  be  ob- 
tained. From  every  side  we  looked  over  thousands 
of  such  mimic  fountains,  shooting  low  or  high,  from 
their  pavements  of  ivory  and  alabaster.  It  was  an 
enchanted  wilderness,  —  white,  silent,  gleaming,  and 
filled  with  inexhaustible  forms  of  beauty.  To  what 
shall  I  liken  those  glimpses  under  the  boughs,  into  the 
depths  of  the  forest,  where  the  snow  destroyed  all 
perspective,  and  brought  the  remotest  fairy  nooks  and 
coverts,  too  lovely  and  fragile  to  seem  cold,  into  the 
glittering  foreground  ?  "  Wonderful ! "  "  Glorious  ! " 
I  could  only  exclaim  in  breathless  admiration. 

Bayard  Taylor. 


The  forests  were  indescribable  in  their  silence, 
whiteness,  and  wonderful  variety  of  snowy  adornment. 
The  weeping  birches  leaned  over  the  road  and  form- 
ed white-fringed  arches ;  the  firs  wore  mantles  of 
ermine,  and  muffs  and  tippets  of  the  softest  swan's 
down.  Snow,  wind,  and  frost  had  wrought  the  most 


65 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


marvelous  transformations.  Here  were  kneeling  nuns 
with  their  arms  hanging  listlessly  by  their  sides,  and 
the  white  cowls  falling  over  their  faces.  There  lay 
a  warrior's  helmet;  lace  curtains,  torn  and  ragged, 
hung  from  the  points  of  little  Gothic  spires.  Caverns, 
lined  with  sparry  incrustations,  silver  palm-leaves, 
doors,  loop-holes,  arches,  and  cascades  were  thrown 
together  in  fantastic  confusion,  and  mingled  with  the 
more  decided  forms  of  the  larger  trees,  which  were 
trees  but  in  form,  so  completely  were  they  wrapped 
in  their  dazzling  disguise.  It  was  an  enchanted  land, 
where  you  scarcely  dared  breathe,  lest  a  breath  might 
break  the  spell.  Ib. 


The  new  snow  had  fallen  on  the  mountains,  and  the 
vast  basin  of  the  Monte  Rosa  chain  lay  before  us, 
clothed  in  flowing  robes  of  the  most  pure  and  spotless 
white  ;  while  every  little  nook  and  ledge,  and  ine- 
quality of  rock  on  which  the  snow  could  rest,  was 
covered  with  the  same  virgin  luster,  so  that  it  looked 
as  if  the  sides  of  the  craggy  mountains  were  flecked 
and  dashed  with  spray,  and  as  if' myriads  of  foaming 
torrents  were  coursing  down  the  precipices,  streak- 
ing their  surface  with  their  white  tracks  in  every 
i 

>  66 


BEAUTY. 

direction.  After  we  turned  to  the  right  and  began 
the  ascent,  the  light  became  stronger,  and  the  outline 
sharper,  and  our  view  of  the  vast  glacier  basin  more 
uninterrupted  and  clear.  The  valley  of  Macregnaga 
goes  very  far  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  so  that 
all  the  snowy  part  of  Monte  Eosa  rises  in  one  great 
mass  directly  above  it.  The  sun  came  up,  and  for 
two  or  three  minutes,  not  more,  all  the  upper  part  of 
this  vast  region  of  snow  was  dyed  of  the  deepest 
crimson,  —  not  pink,  as  an  evening  view  of  the  Alps 
often  is ;  then,  for  much  longer,  it  was  of  the  most 
brilliant  gold, — just  the  color  of  a  new  sovereign; 
and  then,  as  the  sun  overtopped  the  lower  mountains, 
and  their  shadows  were  no  longer  thrown  upward, 
this  gorgeous  coloring  gave  place  to  a  dazzling  glare. 
Miles  off,  as  we  were,  we  could  hardly  look  at  the 
snowy  basin  without  blinking.  wills. 


There  is  in  us  a  want  of  taste  to  appreciate  the  ex- 
quisite beauty  of  the  snow-flakes  that  we  tread  under 
foot.  There  is  a  narrow  selfishness  which  does  not 
even  inquire  what  are  the  moral  or  esthetic  uses  of 
the  snow ;  but  is  contented  or  sad  to  see  it  come  upon 

the  earth,  according  as  it  affects  our  arrangements 

i 

67  ' 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


and  wishes.  Our  education  has  this  radical  defect, 
that  it  does-  not  teach  us  to  make  the  senses  the 
instruments  of  our  higher  faculties ;  to  study  nature, 
to  revere  every  thing  that  God  makes;  that  it  fails 
to  form  us  to  the  highest  exercises  of  which  we  are 
capable,  and  leaves  us  ignorant  of  some  of  the  most 
interesting  and  important  objects  of  knowledge:  God, 
—  his  word,  his  works  and  ourselves.  Kirk. 


HERE  's  beauty  all  around  our  paths, 

If  but  our  watchful  eyes 
Can  trace  it,  mid  familiar  things, 
And  through  their  lowly  guise. 
We  may  find  it  in  the  winter  boughs, 

As  they  cross  the  cold  blue  sky, 
While  soft  on  icy  pool  and  stream 

Their  penciled  shadows  lie; 
When  we  look  upon  their  tracery, 

By  the  fairy  frost-work  bound, 
Whence  the  flitting  red-breast  shakes  a  shower 
Of  crystals  to  the  ground. 

Hemans. 
68 


BEAUTY. 


The  Beautiful  Snow. 


i  H  the  snow  !  the  beautiful  snow  ! 
Filling  the  sky  and  the  earth  below, — 
Over  the  house-tops,  over  the  street, 
Over  the  heads  of  the  people  you  meet. 
Dancing, 

Flirting, 

Skimming  along, 

Beautiful  snow  !    it  can  do  nothing  wrong ; 
Flying  to  kiss  a  fair  lady's  cheek, 
Clinging  to  lips  in  a  frolicsome  freak ; 
Beautiful  snow  from  the  heavens  above, 
Pure  as  an  angel,  and  fickle  as  love  ! 

Oh  the  snow  !   the  beautiful  snow  ! 
How  the  flakes  gather  and  laugh  as  they  go ! 
Whirling  about  in  its  maddening  fun  ; 
It  plays  in  its  glee  with  every  one. 
Chasing, 

Laughing, 

Hurrying  by, 

It  lights  up  the  face,  and  sparkles  the  eye ; 
And  even  the  dogs,  with  a  bark  and  a  bound, 
Snap  at  the  crystals  that  eddy  around  : 
The  town  is  alive,  and  its  heart  in  a  glow, 
To  welcome  the  coming  of  beautiful  snow. 

69    ' 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


How  the  wild  crowd  goes  swaying  along, 
Hailing  each  other  with  humor  and  song! 
How  the  gay  sledges,  like  meteors  flash  by, 
Bright  for  the  moment,  then  lost  to  the  eye! 
Ringing, 

Swinging, 

Dashing  they  go, 

Over  the  crust  of  the  beautiful  snow, — 
Snow  so  pure  when  it  falls  from  the  sky, 
To  be  trampled  in  mud  by  the  crowd  rushing  by. 
To  be  trampled  and  tracked  by  thousands  of  feet. 
Till  it  blends  with  the  filth  in  the  horrible  street. 


"Once  I  was  pure  as  the  snow  —  but  I  fell; 
Fell  like  the  snow-flake,  from  heaven  —  to  hell; 
Fell,  to  be  trampled  as  filth  of  the  street, 
Fell  to  be  scoffed,  derided,  and  beat, 
Pleading, 

Cursing, 

Dreading  to  die, 

Selling  my  soul  to  whomever  would  buy; 
Dealing  in  shame  for  a  morsel  of  bread, 
Hating  the  living,  and  fearing  the  dead: 
Merciful  God !   have  I  fallen  so  low  ? 
And  yet  I  was  once  like  this  beautiful  snow  ! 

TO 


BEAUTY. 

"  Once  I  was  fair  as  this  beautiful  snow, 
With  an  eye  like  its  crystals,  a  heart  like  its  glow ; 
Once  I  was  loved  for  my  innocent  grace, 
Flattered  and  sought  for  the  charm  of  my  face. 
Father, 

Mother, 

Sister,  all, 

God  and  myself  I  have  lost  by  the  fall. 
The  veriest  wretch  that  goes  shivering  by 
Will  take  a  wide  sweep  lest  I  venture  too  nigh ; 
For  of  all  that  is  on  or  about  me,  I  know, 
There  is  nothing  that's  pure  but  the  beautiful  snow. 


"  How  strange  it  should  be  that  this  beautiful  snow 
Should  fall  on  a  sinner  with  no  where  to  go ! 
How  strange  it  would  be,  when  the  night  comes  again, 
If  the  snow  and  the  ice  struck  my  desperate  brain ! 
Fainting, 

Freezing, 

Dying  alone, 

Too  wicked  for  prayer,  too  weak  for  my  moan 
To  be  heard  in  the  crash  of  the  crazy  town, 
Gone  wild  in  their  joy  at  the  snow's  coming  down, 
To  lie  and  to  die  in  my  terrible  woe, 
With  a  bed  and  a  shroud  in  the  beautiful  snow ! " 


71 


f 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Helpless  and  foul  as  the  trampled  snow, 
Sinner,  despair  not !  Christ  stoopeth  low, 
To  rescue  the  soul  that  is  lost  in  its  sin, 
And  raise  it  to  life  and  enjoyment  again. 
Groaning, 

Bleeding, 

Dying,  for  thee, 

The  Crucified  hung  on  the  accursed  tree  !  — 
His  accents  of  mercy  fall  soft  on  thine  ear. 
"  Is  there  mercy  for  me  ?  Will  he  heed  my  weak  prayer  ? 
0  God !  in  the  stream  that  for  sinners  did  flow, 
Wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow !  " 

Selected. 


<T be  stream  of  brooks  ....  fe^eretn  tb^e  Smofo  is  bib.  — |ob  6  :  lo. 


IGHTNESS  and  weakness  are 
symbolized  by  the  snow.  You 
can  not  draw  near  one  of  these 
delicate  crystals  without  danger 
of  destroying  it.  Your  breath 
will  melt  it ;  nay,  even  the  radia- 
tion of  warmth  from  your  person 
will,  ere  you  are  aware,  crum- 
ble down  the  whole  fairy  struc- 
ture so  elaborately  wrought.  It 
floats  down,  the  sport  of  every  breath  of  air.  It  can 
not  ruffle  the  feather  of  a  bird  by  its  falling.  It  per- 
ishes if  the  sun  looks  at  it.  Yet  God  takes  care  of 
it,  —  numbers  it  among  his  treasures.  It  is  not  over- 
looked by  him  amid  all  its  fellows.  When  it  dies 
in  a  tear,  God  bottles  that  tear  and  keeps  it  still  in 

75 


Or 

SNOW-FLAKES. 


his  treasure-house.  Fear  not,  ye  of  little  faith;  ye 
are  of  more  value  than  mountains  of  snow-flakes. 
Does  the  Almighty  create  and  delight  in  it,  preserve 
and  guide  this  little  creature,  and  will  he  not  take 
care  of  you,  and  delight  to  make  you  beautiful  in 
holiness,  and  serviceable  in  his  kingdom  ?  Look  up 
when  it  storms.  The  sun  is  on  the  other  side.  God 
guides  the  cloud,  the  wind,  the  rain,  and  the  snow, 
and  numbers  the  hairs  of  your  head.  Kirk. 


Do  a  little  good  at  a  time,  and  all  the  time.  The 
Himalaya  is  ordered  to  put  on  a  new  robe.  How  is 
it  to  be  done  ?  Will  a  mighty  vestment  drop  from 
heaven  and  encircle  the  mighty  ranges  of  her  peaks  ? 
No  ;  millions  of  little  maids  of  honor  will  come  down, 
and  each  one  contribute  some  little  thread  to  weave 
the  splendid  robe.  And  by  every  one  doing  the  little 
committed  to  it,  the  giant  mountain  stands  robed  in 
its  celestial  garment.  You  organize  a  Sunday  school 
among  neglected  children,  and  go  every  Sunday,  like 
a  little  snow-flake,  to  add  present  labor  to  past.  Keep 
on  ;  that  is  the  way  the  Himalaya  gets  its  robe. 

No  good  is  lost.  Stop  not  to  count  your  converts, 
to  weigh  the  results  of  your  labors,  but  keep  on  like 


70 


WEAKNESS. 


the  gentle  snow,  flake  after  flake,  without  noise  or 
parade.     Parent,  teacher,  preacher,  patriot,  work  on ! 

Ib. 


We  see  the  instability  of  snow,  and  the  rapidity 
with  which  it  disappears  when  played  upon  by  the 
sunbeams,  or  exposed  to  the  effects  of  a  humid,  mild 
air,  and  frequent  showers.  Frequently  the  whole 
aspect  of  nature,  in  a  few  hours,  assumes  a  new  ap- 
pearance, and  scarcely  a  trace  of  snow  is  left  behind. 
By  these  sudden  changes  we  may  justly  be  reminded 
of  the  inconstancy  and  vanity  of  all  human  affairs. 
Fleeting  as  the  snow  beneath  the  sunbeams  are  all 
the  enjoyments  and  gratifications  which  do  not  arise 
from  the  influence  of  religion,  the  exercise  of  the 
mind,  and  the  feelings  of  the  heart ;  if  we  cultivate 
these,  we  shall  be  enabled  to  enjoy  a  portion  of  that 
felicity  which  endureth  for  ever,  —  the  sure  reward 
of  virtue  and  a  well-spent  life.  sturm. 


Soon  another  silent  force  will  come  forth,  and  a 
noiseless  battle  will  ensue,  in  which  this  now  innumer- 
able army  of  snow-flakes  shall  be  itself  vanquished. 


77 


SNOW-FLAfES. 


A  rain-drop  is  stronger  than  a  snow-flake.  One  by 
one,  the  armed  drops  will  dissolve  the  crystals  and 
let  forth  the  spirit  imprisoned  in  them.  Descending 
quickly  into  the  earth,  the  drops  shall  search  the 
roots,  and  give  their  breasts  to  myriad  mouths.  The 
bud  shall  open  its  eye,  the  leaf  shall  lift  up  its  head, 
the  grass  shall  wave  its  spear,  and  the  forests  hang 
out  their  banners  !  How  significant  is  this  silent, 
gradual,  but  irresistible  power  of  rain  and  snow  of 
moral  truth  in  this  world  !  "  For,  as  the  rain  cometh 
down,  and  the  snow  from  heaven,  and  returneth  not 
thither,  but  watereth  the  earth,  and  maketh  it  bring 
forth  and  bud  that  it  may  give  seed  to  the  sower 
and  bread  to  the  eater;  so  shall  my  word  be  that 
goeth  forth  out  of  my  mouth ;  it  shall  not  return  unto 
me  void,  but  it  shall  accomplish  that  which  I  please, 
and  it  shall  prosper  in  the  thing  whereto  I  sent  it." 

Beecher. 


7s 


WEAKNESS. 


Nothing   JLost. 


^HERE  is  the  snow  ? 

'Tis  not  long  ago 
It  covered  the  earth  with  a  vail  of  white ; 
We  heard  not  its  footsteps  soft  and  light, 
Yet  there  it  was  in  the  morning  bright; 
Now  it  hath  vanished  away  from  sight. 
Not  a  trace  remains 
In  fields  or  lanes. 

Where  is  the  frost  ? 

It  is  gone  and  lost  — 
The  forms  of  beauty  last  night  it  made ; 
With  pictures  rare  were  windows  arrayed; 
"  Be  silent !  "    it  said ;  the  brook  obeyed  ; 
Yet  silence  and  pictures  all  did  fade. 

At  the  smile  of  the  sun, 

All  was  undone. 

Where  is  the  rain? 

Pattering  it  came, 
Dancing  along  with  a  merry  sound, 
A  grassy  bed  in  the  fields  it  found ; 
Each  drop  came  on  the  roof  with  a  bound. 
Where  is  the  rain  ?     It  hath  left  the  ground. 

What  good  hath  it  done  — 

Gone  away  so  soon  ? 

79 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Ever,  ever, 

Our  best  endeavor 

Seemeth  to  fall  like  the  melted  snow. 
We  work  out  our  thoughts  wisely  and  slow; 
The  seed  we  sow,  but  it  will  not  grow. 
Our  hopes,  our  resolves,  —  where  do  they  go? 

What  doth  remain? 

Memory  and  pain. 

Nothing  is  lost,  — 

No  snow  nor  frost 

That  comes  to  enrich  the  earth  again. 
We  thank  them  when  the  ripening  grain 
Is  waving  over  the  hill  and  plain, 
And  the  pleasant  rain  springs  from  earth  again. 

All  endeth  in  good, — 

Water  and  food. 

Never  despair; 

Disappointment  bear; 

Though  hope  seemeth  vain,  be  patient  still; 
Thy  good  intent  God  doth  fulfill; 
Thy  hand  is  weak;  his  powerful  will 
Is  finishing  thy  life-work  still. 

The  good  endeavor 

Is  lost  —  ah  !    never. 

Selected. 

80 


WEAKNESS. 


Snow-Flakes. 

•  EE  the  feathery  snow-flakes 
Falling  from  the  sky ! 
Myriads ;   yet  so  softly, 

There's  no  sound  or  sigh. 
Mother  Earth's  brown  raiment 

Doffs  she  for  her  white; 
For  a  fairy's  wand,  transforming, 
Hides  it  out  of  sight. 

Fairy  little  snow-flakes, 

Dancing  as  ye  fall, 
Resting  on  the  rough  old  rock 

By  the  garden  wall, 
There's  no  spot  so  dreary, 

Naught  so  black  and  cold, 
But  your  mantle  may  o'erspread 

With  its  falling  fold. 

Starry  little  snow-flakes, 

Blossoms  of  the  sky. 
Blooming  when  earth's  daisies 

Fast  asleep  all  lie, 
Are  ye  beauty's  raiment, 

On  her  bridal  morn  ? 
Or  the  floating  garments 

By  the  frost  fays  worn  ? 


Tell  me,  mystic  snow-flakes, 

Is  your  home  so  far 
You  can  hear  the  singing 

Of  the  morning  star?  — 
Hear  the  grand,  sweet  chorus, 

As  the  spheres  move  on, 
In  their  slow,  majestic  march 

Round  the  great  white  throne  ? 

What  are  ye,  fair  snow-flakes, 

To  the  King  of  kings  ? 
Unto  Him  who  walketh 

On  the  wind's  swift  wings, 
Maketh  clouds  his  chariot, 

Light  no  man  can  see 
Weareth  for  a  garment,  — 

Snow-flakes,  what  are  ye  ? 

Of  his  spotless  purity 

But  a  shadow  dim 
And  the  silence  of  our  coming 

Speaketh,  too,  of  Him. 
Mortals,  stay  your  tear-drops ! 

One  day  you  shall  know 
What  it  is  to  be,  like  Him, 

"Whiter  than  the  snow." 

H.  Maude  H. 
82 


The  Snou?-Shou?er. 

^-TAND  here  by  my  side,  and  turn,  I  pray, 

On  the  lake  below  thy  gentle  eyes  ; 
The  clouds  hang  over  it  heavy  and  gray, 

And  dark  and  silent  the  water  lies ; 
And  out  of  that  frozen  mist  the  snow 
In  wavering  flakes  begins  to  flow ; 

Flake  after  flake, 
They  sink  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 

See  how  in  a  living  swarm  they  come 

From  the  chambers  beyond  that  misty  vail; 

Some  hover  awhile  in  the  air,  and  some 
Rush  from  the  sky  like  summer  hail. 

All,  dropping  swiftly  or  settling  slow, 

Meet  and  are  still  in  the  depth  below; 
Flake  after  flake. 

Dissolved  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 

Here,  delicate  snow-stars,  out  of  the  cloud, 
Come  floating  downward  in  airy  play, 

Like  spangles  dropped  from  the  glistening  crowd 
That  whitens  by  night  the  milky  way ; 

There  broader  and  burlier  masses  fall : 

The  sullen  water  buries  them  all, 
Flake  after  flake, 

All  drowned  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 


63 


And  some,  as  on  tender  wings  they  glide 
From  their  chilly  birth-cloud  dim  and  gray, 

Are  joined  in  their  fall,  and,  side  by  side, 
Come  clinging  along  their  unsteady  way; 

As  friend  with  friend,  or  husband  with  wife, 

Makes  hand  in  hand  the  passage  of  life  : 
Each  mated  flake 

Soon  sinks  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 

Lo  !  while  we  are  gazing,  in  swifter  haste 
Stream  down  the  snows  till  the  air  is  white, 

As,  myriads  by  myriads  madly  chased, 

They  fling  themselves  from  their  shadowy  hight 

The  fair  frail  creatures  of  middle  sky, 

What  speed  they  make  with  their  grave  so  nigh  ; 
Flake  after  flake 

To  lie  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake  ! 

I  see  in  thy  gentle  eyes  a  tear  ; 

They  turn  to  me  in  sorrowful  thought  ; 
Thou  thinkest  of  friends,  the  good  and  the  dear, 

Who  were  for  a  time  and  now  are  not; 
Like  these  fair  children  of  cloud  and  frost, 
That  glisten  a  moment,  and  then  are  lost, 

Flake  after  flake,  — 
All  lost  in  the  deep  and  silent  lake. 


84 


WEAKNESS. 


Yet  look  again,  for  the  clouds  divide ; 

A  gleam  of  blue  on  the  mountain  lies, 
And  far  away  on  the  mountain-side 

A  sunbeam  falls  from  the  opening  skies; 
But  the  hurrying  host,  that  flew  between 
The  cloud  and  the  water,  no  more  is  seen ; 

Flake  after  flake 
At  rest  in  the  dark  and  silent  lake. 

William  Cullen  Bryant. 


Questions  anb  Answers. 

I  RETTY  little  snow-flake, 

Floating  softly  by, 
Bringest  thou  a  message 
From  the  fleecy  sky  ? 

Yes,  ah,  yes,  a  lesson 

Beautiful  as  true ; 
Silent  be,  but  busy, 

When  you've  work  to  do. 
Avalanche  and  snow-drift 

Grow  from  single  flakes; 
Every  crystal  helping, 

Yet  no  noise  it  makes. 


85  ^3 


- 

SNOW-FLAKES. 


Glittering  little  snow-flakes, 
AVhite  as  white  can  be, 

How  can  I  be  spotless, 

Chaste,  and  pure,  like  thee? 

All  that  comes  from  heaven 

Perfect  is,  like  God ; 
But,  alas  !    the  sinner 

Earthly  ways  has  trod ; 
Yet,  to  God  returning, 

Thence  anew  to  grow, 
Sins,  though  they  be  scarlet, 

Shall  be  white  as  snow. 

Loving  little  snow-flake, 

Tender  is  thy  tread, 
Weaving  o'er  the  flowers 

Dainty  coverlet. 

Loving  work  is  ever 

Best,  when  gently  done; 
All  that's  hard  and  selfish, 

Rough  and  cruel,  shun. 
Do  each  little  duty 

With  a  smiling  face, 
Gathering  all  around  you 

In  love's  warm  embrace. 


H.  E.  B. 

He 


|hmcutt  tbnn  hritlj  tbn  ttmpzst  anb  inalu  tijtm  sfraib  foit^  lljg  storm. 

Psalm  83:15. 


[F  any  one  should  ask  what  is 
the  most  harmless  and  innocent 
thing  on  earth,  he  might  be  an- 
swered, a  snoAv-flake.  And  yet, 
in  its  own  way  of  exerting  itself, 
it  stands  among  the  foremost 
powers  on  earth.  When  it  fills  the 
air,  the  sun  can  not  shine,  the  eye 
becomes  powerless  ;  neither  hunter, 
nor  pilot,  guide  nor  watchman,  is  any 
better  than  a  blind  man.  The  eagle  and  the  mole  are 
on  a  level  of  vision.  All  the  kings  of  the  earth  could 
not  send  forth  an  edict  to  mankind,  saying,  "  Let 
labor  cease."  But  this  white-plumed  light  infantry 
clears  out  the  fields,  drives  men  home  from  the  high- 
way, and  puts  half  a  continent  under  ban.  It  is  a 

89 


r  /  

SNOW-FLAKES. 


despiser  of  old  landmarks,  and  very  quietly  unites 
all  properties,  covering  up  fences,  hiding  paths  and 
roads,  and  doing  in  one  day  a  work  which  the  en- 
gineers and  laborers  of  the  whole  earth  could  not  do 
in  years ! 

But  let  the  wind  arise,  and  how  is  this  peaceful 
seeming  of  snow-flakes  changed  !  In  an  instant  the 
air  raves.  There  is  fury  and  spite  in  the  atmos- 
phere. It  pelts  you  and  searches  you  out  in  every 
fold  and  seam  of  your  garments.  It  comes  without 
search-warrant  into  each  crack  and  crevice  of  your 
house.  It  pours  over  the  hills,  and  lurks  down  in 
valleys,  or  roads,  or  cuts,  until  in  a  night  it  has  en- 
trenched itself  formidably  against  the  most  expert 
human  strength;  for  now,  lying  in  drifts  huge  and 
wide,  it  bids  defiance  to  engine  and  engineer.  Be- 
fore it  this  wonderful  engine  is  as  tame  as  a  wounded 
bird  ;  all  its  spirit  is  gone.  No  blow  is  struck.  The 
snow  puts  forth  no  power.  It  simply  lies  still.  That 
is  enough.  The  laboring  engine  groans  and  pushes  ; 
backs  out  and  plunges  in  again ;  retreats  and  rushes 
again.  It  becomes  entangled.  The  snow  is  every 
where.  It  is  before  it  and  behind  it.  It  penetrates 
the  whole  engine,  is  sucked  up  in  the  draft,  whirls 
in  sheets  into  the  engine-room ;  torments  the  cum- 

90 


POWER. 


bered  wheels,  clogs  the  joints,  and,  packing  down 
under  the  drivers,  it  fairly  lifts  the  ponderous  engine 
from  its  feet,  and  strands  it  across  the  track  !  Well 
done,  snow  !  That  was  a  notable  victory  ! 


Beecher. 


Look  at  the  gentle  flake  coming  down  so  silently, 
and  then  turn  to  contemplate  its  prodigious  effects. 
Parent  of  a  thousand  of  the  streams  and  rivers  that 
water  and  fertilize  our  globe,  the  snow-flake  is  equally 
the  parent  of  the  thundering  avalanche  that  at  St. 
Bernard  overwhelms  the  unhappy  traveler  before  he 
reaches  the  hospitable  convent.  In  the  afternoon, 
you  find  yourself  suddenly  caught  in  a  storm.  What 
is  it  that  eclipses  the  sun,  hours  before  his  setting, 
that  hides  every  landmark  from  the  sight  of  the 
anxious  guide,  that  turns  day  into  sudden  night? 
It  is  the  snow-flake ;  for  in  the  little  thing  is  the 
hiding  of  God's  power. 

And  is  there  not  wealth  as  well  as  power  in  the 
enormous  quantity  of  this  one  form  of  treasure  lav- 
ished on  the  earth  in  one  year?  In  one  night  you 
have  found  the  earth  covered  with  a  carpet  two  feet 
in  thickness.  But  if  it  requires  millions  of  flakes  for 
one  cubic  foot,  what  must  it  require  to  cover  half 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


the  breadth  of  a  continent  on  a  meridian  line  of  one 
thousand  miles?  And  if  that  is  repeated  several 
months  in  each  year,  the  mind  staggers  in  the  at- 
tempt  at  computation.  "  He  giveth  his  snow  like 
wool ! "  He  scatters  his  pearls  and  diamonds  by 
innumerable  millions  upon  the  earth.  What  prodi- 
gality of  bounty  our  King  displays  ! 

The  sovereign  God  gives  the  snow.  It  comes 
when  he  pleases,  and  falls  where  it  pleases  him  to 
have  it,  on  your  house  and  your  land ;  and  you  have 
no  title  that  can  prevent  or  bar  his  right.  Napoleon 
may  be  the  dread  of  kings,  the  mightiest  monarch 
and  warrior  of  the  earth.  He  may  be  stronger  than 
.Russia,  and  may  penetrate  as  far  as  Moscow.  But 
Jehovah  will  there  put  a  bridle  in  his  mouth  and  a 
hook  in  his  nostrils,  and  turn  him  backward,  baffled, 
broken,  disgraced.  And  he  wanted  for  an  instrument 
to  accomplish  his  purposes  the  army  of  snow-flakes. 
He  laid  the  deep  covering  of  snow  upon  the  earth ; 
and  the  mighty  army  found  themselves  conquered  by 
this  little,  gentle,  silent  instrument  of  God's  power. 
God  could  have  sent  one  warm  storm  of  rain,  arid 
set  the  French  army  free.  Bat  he  did  not.  He 
ruleth  in  the  armies  of  heaven  and  doeth  his  pleasure 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth. 

; 

f~""  1)2 


__ 

an* 

POWER 


Scene  in  a  Yermont  Winter. 

IS  a  fearful  night  in  the  winter-time, 

As  cold  as  it  ever  can  be ; 
The  roar  of  the  blast  is  heard  like  the  chime 

Of  the  waves  on  an  angry  sea. 
The  moon  is  full ;  but  her  silver  light 
The  storm  dashes  out  with  its  wings  to-night; 
And  over  the  sky  from  south  to  north 
Not  a  star  is  seen,  as  the  wind  comes  forth 
In  the  strength  of  a  mighty  glee. 

All  day  had  the  snow  come  down,  —  all  day,  — 

As  it  never  came  down  before; 
And  over  the  hills,  at  sunset,  lay 

Some  two  or  three  feet  or  more; 
The  fence  was  lost,  and  the  wall  of  stone ; 
The  windows  blocked,  and  the  well-curbs  gone; 
The  haystack  had  grown  to  a  mountain  lift, 
And  the  wood-pile  looked  like  a  monster  drift, 

As  it  lay  by  the  farmer's  door. 

The  night  sets  in  on  a  world  of  snow, 
While  the  air  grows  sharp  and  chill, 

And  the  warning  roar  of  the  fearful  blow 
Is  heard  on  the  distant  hill : 


93 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


And  the  Norther,  see !    on  the  mountain-peak, 
In  his  breath  how  the  old  trees  writhe  and  shriek ! 
He  drives  from  his  nostrils  the  blinding  snow; 
He  shouts  on  the  plains,  Ho-ho  !    ho-ho ! 
And  growls  with  a  savage  trill. 

Such  a  night  as  this  to  be  found  abroad, 
In  the  drifts  and  the  freezing  air ! 

Sits  a  shivering  dog,  in  the  field,  by  the  road, 
With  the  snow  in  his  shaggy  hair. 

He  shuts  his  eyes  to  the  wind  and  growls; 

He  lifts  his  head  and  moans  and  hovrls ; 

Then  crouching  low,  from  the  cutting  sleet, 

His  nose  is  pressed  on  his  quivering  feet,  — 
Pray  what  does  the  dog  do  there? 

A  farmer  came  from  the  village  plain, 

But  he  lost  the  traveled  way ; 
And  for  hours  he  trod  with  might  .and  main 

A  path  for  his  horse  and  sleigh, 
But  colder  still  the  cold  winds  blew, 
And  deeper  still  the  deep  drifts  grew, 
And  his  mare,  a  beautiful  Morgan  brown, 
At  last  in  her  struggles  floundered  down, 

Where  a  log  in  a  hollow  lay. 


POWER. 

In  vain,  with  a  neigh  and  a  frenzied  snort, 
She  plunged  in  the  drifting  snow, 

While  her  master  urged,  till  his  breath  grew  short. 
With  a  word  and  a  gentle  blow. 

But  the  snow  was  deep  and  the  tugs  were  tight; 

His  hands  were  numb  and  had  lost  their  might ; 

So  he  wallowed  back  to  his  half-filled  sleigh, 

And  strove  to  shelter  himself  till  day, 
With  his  coat  and  the  bufialo. 


He  has  given  the  last  faint  jerk  of  the  rein, 

To  rouse  up  his  dying  steed; 
And  the  poor  dog  howls  to  the  blast  in  vain 

For  help  in  his  master's  need. 
For  a  while  he  strives,  with  a  wistful  cry, 
To  catch  a  glance  from  his  drowsy  eye, 
And  wags  his  tail  if  the  rude  winds  flap 
The  skirt  of  the  bufialo  over  his  lap, 

And  whines  when  he  takes  no  heed. 


The  wind  goes  down  and  the  storm  is  o'er  — 
'Tis  the  hour  of  midnight,  past, 

The  old  trees  writhe  and  bend  no  more 
In  the  whirl  of  the  rushin     blast. 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


The  silent  moon,  with  her  peaceful  light, 
Looks  down  on  the  hills  with  snow  all  white, 
And  the  giant  shadow  of  Camel's  Hump, 
The  blasted  pine  and  the  ghostly  stump, 
Afar  on  the  plain  are  cast. 


But  cold  and  dead,  hy  the  hidden  log, 

x\.re  they  who  came  from  the  town,  — 
The  man  in  his  sleigh  and  his  faithful  dog 

And  his  beautiful  Morgan  brown 
In  the  white  snow  desert,  far  and  grand, 
With  his  cap  on  his  head  and  the  reins  in  his  hand  — 
The  dog  with  his  nose  on  his  master's  feet, 
And  the  mare  half  seen  through  the  crusted  sleet 
Where  she  lay  when  she  floundered  down. 

Charles  Gamage  Eastman. 


Jlhe  Pass  of  the  Sierra. 

LL  night  above  their  rocky  bed 

They  saw  the  stars  march  slow ; 
i^J    The  wild  Sierra  overhead, 
The  desert's  death  below. 


& 


M 


POWER. 


The  Indian  from  his  lodge  of  bark, 
The  gray  bear  from  his  den, 

Beyond  their  camp-fire's  wall  of  dark, 
Glared  on  the  mountain  men. 


Still  upward  turned,  with  anxious  strain, 

Their  leader's  sleepless  eye, 
Where  splinters  of  the  mountain-chain 

Stood  black  against  the  sky. 

The  night  waned  slow ;  at  last,  a  glow, 

A  gleam  of  sudden  fire, 
Shot  up  behind  the  walls  of  snow, 

And  tipped  each  icy  spire. 

"  Up,  men  !  "  he  cried.     "  Yon  rocky  cone, 
To-day,  please  God,  we'll  pass, 

And  look  from  Winter's  frozen  throne 
On  Summer's  flowers  and  grass!" 

They  set  their  faces  to  the  blast, 

They  trod  the  eternal  snow, 
And,  faint,  worn,  bleeding,  hailed  at  last 

The  promised  land  below. 

97 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Behind,  they  saw  the  snow-cloud  tossed 

By  many  an  icy  horn ; 
Before,  warm  valleys,  wood-embossed, 

And  green  with  vines  and  corn. 

They  left  the  Winter  at  their  backs, 

To  flap  his  baffled  wing, 
And  downward,  with  the  cataracts, 

Leaped  to  the  lap  of  Spring. 

Strong  leader  of  that  mountain  band ! 

Another  task  remains : 
To  break  from  Slavery's  desert  land 

A  path  to  Freedom's  plains! 

The  winds  are  wild,  the  way  is  drear, 
Yet,  flashing  through  the  night, 

Lo!  icy  ridge  and  rocky  spear 
Blaze  out  in  morning  light ! 

Rise  up,  Fremcnt !    and  go  before ; 

The  hour  must  have  its  man  : 
Put  on  the  hunting-shirt  once  more, 

And  lead  in  Freedom's  van ! 


Whittier. 


98 


6~P» 


Ijon  bast  ma&e  Rummer  anfo  Minter.  —  jjsahn  74^ 


OW  delightful  is  the  face  of 
nature  when  the  morning  light 
first  dawns  upon  a  country 
embosomed  in  snow  !  The  thick 
mist  which  obscured  the  earth 
and  concealed  every  object  from 
our  view  at  once  vanishes. 
HOAV  beautiful  are  the  tops  of 
the  trees,  hoary  with  frost  ! 
The  hills  and  valleys,  reflecting 
the  sunbeams,  assume  various  tints ;  all  nature  is 
animated  by  the  genial  influence  of  the  brightness, 
and,  robed  in  white,  delights  the  traveler  with  her 
novel  and  delicate  appearance.  How  beautiful  to  see 
the  white  hills,  the  forests,  and  the  groves  all  spar- 
kling !  What  a  delightful  combination  these  objects 

101 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


present !  Observe  the  brilliancy  of  the  hedges  !  See 
the  lofty  trees  "bending  beneath  their  dazzling  bur- 
den !  The  surface  of  the  earth  appears  one  vast 
plain  mantled  in  white  and  splendid  array. 


Already  snow-birds  are  fluttering  for  a  foothold, 
and  showering  down  the  frosty  dust  from  the  twigs. 
The  hens  and  their  uplifted  lords  are  beginning  to 
wade  with  dainty  steps  through  the  chilly  wool. 
Boys  are  aglee  with  sleds ;  men  are  out  with  shovels, 
and  dames  with  brooms.  Bells  begin  to  ring  along 
the  highway,  and  heavy  oxen  with  craunching  sleds 
are  wending  toward  the  woods  for  the  winter's  sup- 
ply of  fuel.  The  school-house  is  open,  and  a  roasting 
fire  rages  in  the  box-stove.  Little  boys  are  crying 
with  chilblains,  and  little  girls  are  comforting  them 
with  the  assurance  that  it  will  "  stop  aching  pretty 
soon,"  and  the  boys  seem  unwilling  to  stop  crying 
until  then.  Big  boys  are  shaking  their  coats,  and 
stamping  off  the  snow,  which  peels  easily  from  sleek, 
black-balled  boots,  or  shoes  burnished  with  tallow. 
Out  of  doors,  the  snowballs  are  flying,  and  every 
body  laughs  but  the  one  that's  hit.  Down  go  the 
wrestlers.  The  big  ones  "  rub  "  the  little  ones  ;  the 

102 


little  ones  in  turn  "  rub "  the  smaller  ones.  The 
passers-by  are  pelted ;  and  many  a  lazy  horse  has 
motives  of  speed  applied  to  his  lank  sides.  Even  the 
schoolmaster  is  but  mortal,  and  must  take  his  lot; 
for  many  an  "  accidental "  snowball  plumps  into  his 
breast  and  upon  his  back  before  the  rogues  will  be- 
lieve that  it  is  the  schoolmaster. 

But  days  go  by.  The  snow  drifts,  —  fences  are 
banked  up  ten  feet  high.  Hills  are  broken  into  a 
"  coast "  for  boys'  sleds.  They  slide  and  pull  up 
again,  and  toil  on  in  their  slippery  pleasure.  They 
tumble  over  and  turn  over ;  they  break  down,  or 
smash  up ;  they  run  into  each  other,  or  run  races,  in 
all  the  moods  and  experiences  of  rugged  frolic.  Then 
comes  the  digging  of  chambers  in  the  deep  drifts, 
room  upon  room,  the  water  dashed  on  overnight 
freezing  the  snow-walls  into  solid  ice.  Forts  are  also 
built,  and  huge  balls  of  snow  rolled  up,  till  the  little 
hands  can  roll  the  mass  no  longer.  Beecher. 


For  two  days  it  had  been  storming.  The  air  was 
murky  and  cross.  The  snow  was  descending,  not 
peacefully  and  dreamily,  but  whirled  and  made  wild 
by  fierce  winds.  The  forests  were  laden  with  snow, 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


and  their  interior  looked  murky  and  dreadful  as  a 
witch's  den.  Through  such  scenes  I  began  my  ride 
upon  the  plow-shoving  engine.  The  engineers  and 
firemen  were  coated  with  snow  from  head  to  foot, 
and  looked  like  millers  who  had  not  brushed  their 
coats  for  ten  years.  The  floor  on  which  we  stood 
was  ice  and  snow  half  melted.  The  wood  was  coated 
with  snow.  The  locomotive  was  frosted  all  over 
with  snow,  —  wheels,  connecting-rods,  axles,  and 
every  thing  but  the  boiler  and  smoke-stack.  The 
side  and  front  windows  were  glazed  with  crusts  of 
ice,  and  only  through  one  little  spot  in  the  window 
over  the  boiler  could  I  peer  out  to  get  a  sight  of  the 
plow.  The  track  was  indistinguishable.  There  was 
nothing  to  the  eye  to  guide  the  engine  in  one  way 
more  than  another.  It  seemed  as  if  we  were  going 
across  fields  and  plunging  through  forests  at  random. 
And  this  gave  no  mean  excitement  to  the  scene, 
when  two  ponderous  engines  were  apparently  driv- 
ing us  in  such  an  outlandish  excursion.  But  their 
feet  were  sure,  and  unerringly  felt  their  way  along 
the  iron  road,  so  that  we  were  held  in  our  courses. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  snow  in  its  own 
organization,  in  the  gracefulness  with  which  it  falls, 
in  the  molding  of  its  drift-lines,  and  in  the  curves 

2 
. ' 

"  104 


GLADNESS. 


which  it  makes  when  streaming  off  on  either  side 
from  the  plow.  It  was  never  long  the  same.  If  the 
snow  was  thin  and  light,  the  plow  seemed  to  play 
tenderly  with  it,  like  an  artist  doing  curious  things 
for  sport,  throwing  it  in  exquisite  curves  that  rose 
and  fell,  quivered  and  trembled  as  they  ran.  Then 
suddenly  striking  a  rift  that  had  piled  across  the 
track,  the  snow  sprang  out,  as  if  driven  by  an  explo- 
sion, twenty  and  thirty  feet,  in  jets  and  bolts ;  or  like 
long-stemmed  sheaves  of  snow,  —  outspread,  fan-like. 
Instantly,  when  the  drift  was  passed,  the  snow 
seemed  by  an  instinct  of  its  own  to  retract,  and 
played  again  in  exquisite  curves,  that  rose  and  fell 
about  our  prow.  "  Now  you'll  get  it,"  says  the 
engineer,  "  in  that  deep  cut."  We  only  saw  the  first 
dash,  as  if  the  plow  had  struck  the  banks  of  snow 
before  it  could  put  on  its  graces,  and  shot  it  dis- 
tracted and  headlong  up  and  down  on  either  side, 
like  spray  or  flying  ashes.  It  was  but  a  second. 
For  the  fine  snow  rose  up  around  the  engine,  and 
covered  it  in  like  a  mist,  and,  sucking  round,  poured 
in  upon  us  in  sheets  and  clouds,  mingled  with  the 
vapor  of  steam,  and  the  smoke  which,  from  impeded 
draft,  poured  out,  filled  the  engine-room  and  darkened 

it  so  that  we  could  not  see  each  other  a  foot  distant, 
; s 

105  « 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


except  as  very  filmy  specters  glowering  at  each 
other.  Our  engineers  had  on  buffalo  coats  whose 
natural  hirsuteness  was  made  more  shaggy  by  tags 
of  snow  melted  into  icicles.  To  see  such  substan- 
tial forms  changing  back  and  forth  into  a  spectral 
lightness,  as  if  they  went  back  and  forth  between 
body  and  spirit,  was  not  a  little  exciting  to  the  imag- 
ination. 

When  we  struck  deep  bodies  of  snow,  the  engine 
plowed  through  them  laboriously,  quivering  and 
groaning  with  the  load,  but  shot  forth  again,  nimble 
as  a  bird,  the  moment  the  snow  grew  light  and  thin. 

Nothing  seemed  wilder  than  to  be  in  one  of  these 
whirling  storms  of  smoke,  vapor,  and  snow,  you  on 
one  ponderous  monster,  and  another  roaring  close 
behind,  both  engines  like  fiery  dragons  harnessed 
and  fastened  together,  and  looming  up  when  the  snow 
and  mists  opened  a  little,  black  and  terrible.  It 
seemed  as  if  you  were  in  a  battle.  There  was  such 
energetic  action,  such  irresistible  power,  such  dark- 
ness and  light  alternating,  and  such  fitful  half-lights, 
which  are  more  exciting  to  the  imagination  than 
light  or  darkness.  Thus,  whirled  on  in  the  bosom  of 
a  storm,  you  sped  across  the  open  fields,  full  of  wild- 
driving  snow ;  you  ran  up  to  the  opening  of  the 



106 


GLADNESS. 


black  pine  and  hemlock  woods,  and  plunged  into 
their  somber  mouth  as  if  into  a  cave  of  darkness, 
and  wrestled  your  way  along  through  their  dreary 
recesses,  emerging  to  the  cleared  field  again,  with 
whistles  screaming  and  answering  each  other  back 
and  forth  from  engine  to  engine.  it>. 


It  is  not  only  that  the  snow  makes  fair  what  was 
good  before,  but  it  is  a  messenger  of  love  from  Leav- 
en, bearing  glad  tidings  of  great  joy.  Hope  for  the 
future  comes  down  to  the  earth  in  every  tiny  snow- 
flake.  Underneath,  as  they  span  the  hill-side,  and  lie 
lightly  piled  in  the  valleys,  the  earth-spirits  and 
fairies  are  ceaselessly  working  out  their  multifold 
plans.  The  grasses  hold  high  carnival  safe  under 
their  crystal  roof.  The  roses  and  lilies  keep  holiday. 
The  snow-drops  and  hyacinths,  and  the  pink-lipped 
May-flower,  wait  as  they  that  watch  for  the  morning. 
The  life  that  stirs  beneath  thrills  to  the  life  that  stirs 
above.  The  spring  sun  will  mount  higher  and  high- 
er in  the  heavens ;  the  sweet  snow  will  sink  down 
into  the  arms  of  the  violets,  and,  at  the  word  of  the 
Lord,  the  Earth  shall  come  up  once  more  as  a  bride 
adorned  for  her  husband.  Gail  Hamilton. 

107 




arh 
SNOW-FLAKES. 


The    Time    of    Snow. 

RAVE  Winter  and  I  shall  ever  agree, 
Though  a  stern  and  frowning  gaffer  is  he. 
I  like  to  hear  him,  with  hail  and  rain, 
Come  tapping  against  the  window-pane  ; 

I  like  to  see  him  come  marching  forth, 

Begirt  with  the  icicle-gems  of  the  north  ; 

But  I  like  him  best,  when  he  comes  bedight 

In  his  velvet  robes  of  stainless  white. 

A  cheer  for  the  snow,  —  the  drifting  snow, 

Smoother  and  purer  than  Beauty's  brow  ! 

The  creature  of  thought  scarce  likes  to  tread 

On  the  delicate  carpet  daintily  spread. 

With  feathery  wreaths  the  forest  is  bound, 

And  the  hills  arc  with  glittering  diamonds  crowned. 

'Tis  the  fairest  scene  we  can  have  below, 

Sing  a  welcome,  then,  to  the  drifting  snow. 

The  urchins  gaze  with  eloquent  eye, 

To  see  the  flakes  go  dancing  by. 

In  the  blinding  storm  how  happy  are  they, 

To  welcome,  the  first  deep,  snowy  day  ! 

Shouting  and  pelting,  what  bliss  to  fall, 

Half-smothered,  beneath  the  well-aimed  ball  ! 


108 


GLADNESS. 


Men  of  fourscore,  did  ye  ever  know 

Such  sport  as  ye  had  in  the  drifting  snow? 

Ye  rejoice  in  it  still,  and  love  to  see 

The  ermine  mantle  on  tower  and  tree. 

'Tis  the  fairest  scene  we  can  have  below, 

Hurrah !  then  hurrah !  for  the  drifting  snow ! 

Eliza  Cook. 


A    Winter    Sketch. 

'IS  winter,  yet  there  is  no  sound 

Along  the  air, 
Of  winds  upon  their  battle-ground; 

But  gently  there 
The  snow  is  falling,  —  all  around, 
How  fair,  —  how  fair  ! 

The  jocund  fields  would  masquerade; 

Fantastic  scene ! 
Tree,  shrub  and  lawn  and  lonely  glade 

Have  cast  their  green, 
And  joined  the  revel,  all  arrayed 

So  white  and  clean. 


109 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


E'en  the  old  posts,  that  hold  the  bars, 

And  the  old  gate, 
Forgetful  of  their  wintry  wars 

And  age  sedate, 
High-capped  and  plumed,  like  white  hussars, 

Stand  there  in  state. 

The  drifts  are  hanging  by  the  sill, 

The  eaves,  the  door; 
The  hay-stack  has  become  a  hill; 

All  covered  o'er 
The  wagon  loaded  for  the  mill 

The  eve  before. 

Maria  brings  the  water-pail, 

But  where's  the  well? 
Like  magic  of  a  fairy  tale, 

Most  strange  to  tell, 
All  vanished,  curb  and  crank  and  rail ! 

How  deep  it  fell ! 

The  wood-pile,  too,  is  playiug  hide ; 

The  axe,  the  log, 
The  kennel  of  that  friend  so  tried, — 

The  old  watch-dog, — 
The  grindstone  standing  by  its  side, 

All  now  incog. 


The  bustling  cock  looks  out  aghast 

From  his  high  shed; 
No  spot  to  scratch  him  a  repast;  — 

Up  curves  his  head, 
Starts  the  dull  hamlet  with  a  blast, 

And  back  to  bed. 

Old  drowsy  dobbin,  at  the  call, 

Amazed,  awakes; 
Out  from  the  window  of  his  stall 

A  view  he  takes; 
While  thick  and  faster  seem  to  fall 

The  silent  flakes. 

The  barn-yard  gentry,  musing,  chime 

Their  morning  moan; 
Like  Memnon's  music  of  old  time, — 

That  voice  of  stone ! 
So  warbled  they,  and  so  sublime 

Their  solemn  tone. 

Good  Ruth  has  called  the  younker-folk 

To  dress  below; 
Full  welcome  was  the  word  she  spoke; 

Down,  down  they  go, 
The  cottage  quietude  is  broke,  — 

The  snow !  —  the  snow ! 


111 


c  - 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Now  rises  from  around  the  fire 

A  pleasant  strain; 
Ye  giddy  sons  of  mirth,  retire  ! 

And  ye  profane  ! 
A  hymn  to  the  Eternal  Sire 

Goes  up  again. 

The  patriarchal  Book  divine, 

Upon  the  knee, 
Opes  where  the  gems  of  Judah  shine, 

(Sweet  minstrelsy ! ) 
How  soars  each  heart  with  each  fair  line, 

0  God,  to  Thee! 

Around  the  altar  low  they  bend, 

Devout  in  prayer; 
As  snows  upon  the  roof  descend, 

So  angels  there 
Come  down  that  household  to  defend 

With  gentle  care. 

While  mounts  the  eddying  smoke  amain 

From  many  a  hearth, 
And  all  the  landscape  rings  again 

With  rustic  mirth, 
So  gladsome  seems  to  every  swain 

The  snowy  earth. 

Hoyt. 

112 


ibon  strn  the  treasures  of  tju  Ijail,  fa^itb  $  jwbt  rtscrbtb  against  tbt 
timt  of  tronblt  ?  —  $ob  38  :  22. 


OT  in  his  splendors,  only,  nor  his 
beneficence,  does  God  manifest 
himself  to  men.  "The  Lord 
Most  High  is  terrible."  His 
holiness  is  for  ever  arrayed  in 
frowns  and  rebuke  against 
wrong.  It  is  pleasant  to  dwell 
on  his  love,  to  speak  of  him  as 
the  Father  of  all  his  creatures, 
fall  of  pity  and  condescension 
for  the  most  erring.  The  heart  that  responds  to  his 
with  reciprocal  affection,  penitent  for  sins  committed, 
trustful  in  his  promises  of  pardon  through  a  Re- 
deemer, and  constrained  by  filial  devotion  to  grateful 
service  and  worship,  may  rest  in  the  sweet  contem- 
plation of  his  goodness.  But  let  it  not  be  forgotten 


115 


at  the  same  time  that  he  is  holy  as  well  as  good,  "  mer- 
ciful and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant  in 
goodness  and  truth,  forgiving  iniquity  and  transgres- 
sion and  sin,  and  that  he  will  by  no  means  clear  the 
guilty." 

It  is  fitting  that  this  part,  also,  of  the  Divine  charac- 
ter should  be  illustrated  in  his  works.  Therefore,  he 
hath  appointed  the  earthquake,  the  lightning,  and  the 
tempest,  to  be,  with  the  sunshine  and  the  gentle 
breezes,  representatives  of  himself.  Even  the  snow, 
so  soft  and  beautiful,  he  makes  a  messenger  of 
gloom.  The  dark,  fierce  winter  storm  sweeps  over 
the  earth  as  the  very  spirit  of  desolation.  The  tiny 
flakes,  charged  with  the  mission  which  he  gives 
them,  fly  forth  in  numbers  infinite  to  buffet,  to  bewil- 
der, to  overwhelm  whatever  is  exposed  to  them. 
Who  can  resist  these  "  treasures  "  of  the  storm  when 
let  loose  in  their  strength  ?  "  Who  can  stand  before 
his  cold  ?  " 

As  thus  the  snows  arise,  and  foul  and  fierce 
All  Winter  drives  along  the  darkened  air. 
In  his  own  loose,  revolving  fields  the  swain 

Disastered  stands;  and  wanders  on 

From  hill  to  dale,  still  more  and  more  astray, 


116 


GLOOM. 


Impatient,  flouncing  through  the  drifted  heaps, 
Stung  with  the  thoughts  of  home,  —  the  thoughts  of 

home 

Rush  on  his  nerves,  and  call  their  vigor  forth 
In  many  a  vain  attempt. 

How  sinks  his  soul ! 

What  black  despair,  what  horror,  fills  his  mind ! 
When  for  the  dusky  spot  which  fancy  feigned 
His  tufted  cottage  rising  through  the  snow, 
He  meets  the  roughness  of  the  middle  waste, 
Far  from  the  track  and  blest  abode  of  man  ! 
While  round  him  Night  resistless  closes  fast, 
And  every  tempest,  howling  o'er  his  head, 
Renders  the  savage  wilderness  more  wild. 
Nor  wife  nor  children  more  shall  he  behold, 
Nor  friends  nor  sacred  home.     On  every  nerve 
The  deadly  Winter  seizes;  shuts  up  sense; 
And  .o'er  his  inmost  vitals  creeping  cold, 
Lays  him  along  the  snows  a  stiffened  corse, 
Stretched  out,  and  bleaching  in  the  northern  blast. 

Thomson. 

Winter  is  a  fitting  image  of  decay  and  death; 
and  the  cold,  white,  winding-sheet  that  shrouds  the 
blighted  flowers,  of  the  robe  that  is  spread  over 
the  still  form  of  our  heart's  crushed  and  faded 
blossoms.  True,  the  flowers  shall  spring  again,  and 
our  treasures  will  be  restored  to  us  in  the  land  of 


117 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


eternal  summer.  Nevertheless,  the  dreary  hour  of 
separation  is  not  joyous,  but  grievous.  Our  hopes 
are  withered,  our  hearts  are  chilled;  disappoint- 
ment, absence,  present  loss,  distress  and  torture  us. 
All  is  gloom,  desolation,  and  anguish.  The  sun 
may  shine,  but  his  beams  are  cold  and  glassy.  No 
pleasures  spring  about  our  path.  Our  life  is  buried 
with  our  darlings  in  the  icy  bosom  of  nature.  O 
Winter,  bleak,  dismal,  wasting,  inexorable  Winter ! 
Hasten  thy  footsteps,  and  bring  us  to  the  bright 
expectant  Spring ! 


Winter. 

i  H  the  long  and  dreary  Winter  ! 
Oh  the  cold  and  cruel  Winter  ! 
Ever  thicker,  thicker,  thicker 
Froze  the  ice  on  lake  and  river; 
Ever  deeper,  deeper,  deeper 
Fell  the  snow  o'er  all  the  landscape, 
Fell  the  covering  snow,  and  drifted 
Through  the  forest,  round  the  village. 

Hardly  from  his  buried  wigwam 
Could  the  hunter  force  a  passage  j 


118 


GLOOM. 

"With  his  mittens  and  his  snow-shoes 
Vainly  walked  he  through  the  forest, 
Sought  for  bird  or  beast  and  found  none,  — 
Saw  no  track  of  deer  or  rabbit; 
In  the  snow  beheld  no  footprints; 
In  the  ghastly  gleaming  forest 
Fell,  and  could  not  rise  from  weakness, 
Perished  there  from  cold  and  hunger. 

Oh  the  famine  and  the  fever! 
Oh  the  wasting  of  the  famine ! 
Oh  the  blasting  of  the  fever ! 
Oh  the  wailing  of  the  children ! 
Oh  the  anguish  of  the  women  ! 

All  the  earth  was  sick  and  famished; 
Hungry  was  the  air  around  them, 
Hungry  was  the  sky  above  them, 
And  the  hungry  stars  in  heaven, 
Like  the  eyes  of  wolves  glared  at  them ! 

Then  they  buried  Minnehaha ; 
In  the  snow  a  grave  they  made  her, 
In  the  forest  deep  and  darksome, 
Underneath  the  moaning  hemlocks; 
Clothed  her  in  her  richest  garments, — 
Wrapped  her  in  her  robes  of  ermine, 
Covered  her  with  snow,  like  ermine; 
Thus  they  buried  Minnehaha. 

Longfellow. 
119 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


The    Path    through    the    Snow. 

ARE  and  sunshiny,  bright  and  bleak, 
Rounded  cold  as  a  dead  maid's  cheek, 
Folded  white  as  a  sinner's  shroud, 
Or  wandering  angel's  robes  of  cloud,  — 

Well  I  know,  well  I  know, 
Over  the  fields  the  path  through  the  snow. 

Narrow  and  rough  it  lies  between 

Wastes  where  the  wind  sweeps,  biting  keen  ; 

Every  step  of  the  slippery  road 

Tracks  where  some  weary  foot  has  trod  j 

Who  will  go,  who  will  go, 
After  the  rest,  on  the  path  through  the  snow  ? 

They  who  would  tread  it  must  walk  alone, 
Silent  and  steadfast,  one  by  one ; 
Dearest  to  dearest  can  only  say, 
"My  heart!  I'll  follow  thee  all  the  way, 

As  we  go,  as  we  go, 
Each  after  each  on  this  path  through  the  snow. 

It  may  be  under  that  western  haze 
Lurks  the  omen  of  brighter  days ; 


120 


O          . 


GLOOM. 


That  each  sentinel  tree  is  quivering 
Deep  at  its  core  with  the  sap  of  spring ; 

And  while  we  go,  while  we  go, 
Green  grass-blades  pierce  through  the  glittering  suow. 

It  may  be  the  unknown  path  will  tend 
Never  to  any  earthly  end,  ^-» 
Die  with  the  dying  day  obscure, 
And  never  lead  to  a  human  door; 

That  none  may  know  who  did  go 
Patiently  once  on  this  path  through  the  snow. 

No  matter,  no  matter !  the  path  shines  plain ; 
These  pure  snow-crystals  will  deaden  pain; 
Above,  like  stars  in  the  deep  blue  dark, 
Eyes  that  love  us  look  down  and  mark. 

Let  us  go,  let  us  go, 
Whither  Heaven  leads  in  the  path  through  the  snow ! 

Miss  Muloch. 


Becemlber    Snow. 

i-ALL  thickly  on  the  rose-bush, 

0  faintly  falling  snow  ! 
For  she  is  gone  who  trained  its  branch, 
And  wooed  its  bud  to  blow. 


121 


*\  o 

SNOW-FLAKES. 


Cover  the  well-known  pathway, 

0  damp  December  snow ! 
Her  step  no  longer  lingers  there, 

When  stars  begin  to  glow. 

Melt  in  the  rapid  river, 

0  cold  and  cheerless  snow! 
She  sees  no  more  its  sudden  wave, 

Nor  hears  its  foaming  flow. 

Chill  every  song-bird's  music, 

0  silent,  sullen  snow ! 
I  can  not  hear  her  loving  voice, 

That  lulled  me  long  ago. 

Sleep  on  the  earth's  broad  bosom, 

0  weary  winter  snow  ! 
Its  fragrant  flowers  and  blithesome  birds 

Should  with  its  loved  one  go. 

W.  B.  Glazier. 


£ 


122 


<$'  ^L  ®\ 

y:c^~^^-s35^ 


e  jSain  romttl}  bolnu  anb  tbe  ^nofrr  from  (ualmt,  anb  foateret(j  tbe  rartj), 
anil  malutb  it  bring  fortb  anb  bub,  i^Ht  it  mag  gibe  sceb  to  tbe  sober  anb 
brtab  to  the  ratrr.  —  |lsaiab  55  : 10 


,HE  great  design  of  the  snow  is 
benevolent.  It  is  appointed  to 
water  the  earth,  but  not  like 
the  rain.  That  conies  down  and 
produces  its  effects  and  passes 
away,  and  is  absent  just  when 
the  heat  is  at  its  hight,  and 
evaporation  most  rapid.  But 
the  snow  comes  down  in  the 
winter,  and  lies  upon  the  high 
mountain  ranges  all  through  the  hottest  weather, 
gradually  supplying  the  streams  and  rivers  on  which 
human  life  depends.  The  great  Father  of  Waters, 
our  grand  Mississippi,  is  a  child  of  the  snow  ;  and 
often  his  waters  swell  when  other  streams  are  dry- 


125 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


ing  up.  The  very  heat  which  is  drinking  up  their 
waters  is  melting  the  snows  on  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  replenishing  his  wasted  bulk.  The  Nile  is 
the  child  of  snow ;  and  its  annual  rise,  on  which  the 
life  of  Egypt  depends,  is  occasioned  by  its  melting. 
The  sun,  approaching  the  summer  solstice,  finds  the 
snows  of  the  winter  all  treasured  up  for  his  magic 
touch  to  transform  to  water. 

The  snow  tempers  the  heat  of  the  atmosphere. 
And  in  this  it  has  two  opposite  powers  and  offices. 
It  heats  and  it  cools.  By  being  a  non-conductor  of 
heat,  and  at  the  same  time  translucent,  it  enables  the 
Esquimaux  to  build  his  winter  house  entirely  of  its 
solid  blocks ;  being  the  warmest  substance  for  this 
purpose,  in  nature,  so  far  as  waste  of  heat  is  concern- 
ed, and  at  the  same  time  serving  the  purpose  of  win- 
dows by  transmitting  the  light  in  a  broad  mass  into 
his  humble  dwelling.  Animals  live  under  its  shelter 
in  the  severest  cold.  And  the  very  earth  i.s  protect- 
ed by  it.  Tender  roots  lie  sheltered  from  the  frosts 
by  its  thick  covering.  The  winds  that  visit  the 
south  of  India,  our  latitude,  and  Southern  Europe, 
in  summer,  come  across  over  the  great  snow  tracts 
of  the  Himalaya,  or  the  Alps,  or  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, charged  with  refreshing  coolness. 
. ! 

126  ^ 


BENEFICENCE. 


And  while  its  pure  whiteness  makes  an  agreeable 
change  from  the  verdure  of  summer,  it  is  admirably 
adapted  to  the  various  latitudes  of  the  earth  in  modi- 
fying the  light.  The  farther  the  sun  withdraws  from 
any  part  of  the  earth,  the  less  light  he  emits  there. 
And  the  snow  follows  him  at  respectful  distance,  in- 
creasing its  bounty,  as  his  rays  diminish.  The  con- 
sequence is,  our  long  winter  nights  are  cheered  by 
this  brilliant  covering  that  gathers  and  reflects  all  the 
scattered  beams  the  sun  has  left.  The  long  polar 
nights  are  not  only  illuminated,  but  also  beautified 
by  its  wonderful  phenomena. 

Snow  furnishes  the  most  splendid  material  for  road 
making.  To  it  we  owe  the  cheerful  movement  of  the 
sleigh ;  and  the  lumbermen  of  our  forests  can  do 
nothing  until  it  has  come  to  enable  them  to  bring 
their  timber  to  the  streams.  Kirk- 


But  few  of  us  at  home  can  realize  the  protecting 
power  of  this  warm  coverlet  of  snow.  No  eider-down 
in  the  cradle  of  an  infant  is  tucked  in  more  kindly 
than  the  sleeping  dress  of  Winter  about  this  feeble 
flower-life.  The  first  warm  snows,  falling  on  a  thickly- 
pleached  carpet  of  grasses,  heaths,  and  willows,  en- 

i 
; m  "    ; 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


shrine  the  flowery  growths  which  nestle  round  them 
in  a  non-conducting  air-chamber ;  and,  as  each  succes- 
sive snow  increases  the  thickness  of  the  cover,  we 
have,  before  the  intense  cold  of  winter  sets  in,  a  light, 
cellular  bed  covered  by  drift,  six,  eight  or  ten  feet 
deep,  in  which  the  plants  retain  their  vitality. 

The  early  spring  and  late  fall  and  summer  snows 
are  more  cellular  and  less  condensed  than  the  nearly 
impalpable  powder  of  winter.  The  drifts,  therefore, 
that  accumulate  during  nine  months  of  the  year,  are 
dispersed  in  well-defined  layers  of  different  density. 
We  have  first  the  warm  cellular  snows  which  sur- 
round the  plant ;  next,  the  fine,  impacted  snow-dust 
of  winter ;  and  above  these,  the  later,  humid  deposits 
of  the  spring. 

It  is  interesting  to  observe  the  effects  of  this  dis- 
position of  layers  upon  the  safety  of  the  vegetable 
growths  below  them.  These,  at  least  in  the  earliest 
summer,  occupy  the  inclined  slopes  that  face  the  sun, 
and  the  several  strata  of  snow  take,  of  course,  the 
same  inclination.  The  consequence  is,  that  as  the 
upper  snow  is  dissipated  by  the  early  thawings,  and 
sinks  upon  the  more  compact  layer  below,  it  is,  to  a 
great  extent,  arrested,  and  runs  off  like  rain  from  a 
slope  of  clay.  The  plant  reposes  thus  in  its  cellular 


BENEFICENCE. 


bed,  guarded  from  the  rush  of  waters,  and  protected 
too  from  the  nightly  frosts  by  the  icy  roof  above  it. 


Dr.  Kane. 


There  is  a  pretty,  curious  old  town  in  Germany. 
The  streets  are  narrow  and  the  houses  very  quaint, 
with  their  pointed,  gable-ends  toward  the  street. 
One  house  stands  somewhat  isolated  from  the  rest. 
It  is  at  an  angle  where  two  streets  meet,  and  is  built 
with  so  many  projections  and  jutting  windows  and 
carved  friezes  that  it  is  quite  a  study. 

One  cold,  cold  afternoon  in  midwinter,  when  the 
silent  frost  was  penetrating  every  where,  and  men 
moved  quickly,  muffled  up  in  furs, — a  time  for  people 
to  close  their  doors,  and  gather  round  their  firesides, 
—  all  the  quiet  inhabitants  were  astir.  There  was  a 
bustle  of  preparation  in  parlor  and  kitchen ;  and 
young  and  old,  wrapping  their  garments  about  them, 
were  ready  to  go  out  in  the  cold.  There  were  dis- 
may and  confusion  in  all  the  streets.  Why  ? 

They  had  heard  that  the  French  regiment,  called 
the  Pitiless,  on  its  retreat  from  Moscow,  was  only 
three  leagues  off,  and  was  to  quarter  in  their  village 

that  night.     There  was  every  thing  to  fear  from  the 

i  i 

'    "  129  ~~< 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


revelry  and  excesses  of  soldiers,  who  acknowledged 
no  right  but  that  of  the  strongest. 

In  the  queer  old  house  of  which  we  have  spoken, 
there  was  no  bustle  of  preparation.  By  the  fire,  in  a 
large  old  room,  sat  an  aged  woman  and  her  two 
grandchildren.  Unable  from  her  lameness  to  leave 
home,  her  grandchildren  would  not  forsake  her.  Her 
faith  in  God  enabled  her  to  feel  that  they  might  be 
safer  there  than  when  fleeing  from  danger. 

"O  God  I  till  darkness  goeth  hence, 
Be  them  our  stay  and  our  defense ; 
A  wall,  when  foes  oppress  us  sore, 
To  save  and  guard  us  evermore  I" 

These,  the  last  notes  of  their  evening  hymn,  died 
away  amid  the  rafters  of  the  shadowy  room. 

"  Alas  ! "  said  the  boy,  mournfully,  "  we  have  no 
wall  about  us  to-night  to  protect  us  from  enemies." 

"  He  will  be  our  Wall  himself,"  said  the  aged  wo- 
man, reverently.  "  Think  you  his  arm  is  shortened?  " 

"  No,  grandmother ;  but  the  thing  is  impossible 
without  a  miracle." 

"  Take  care,  my  boy ;  nothing  is  impossible  with 
God.  Hath  he  not  said  he  will  be  a  wall  of  fire  unto 
his  people  ?  We  must  trust  him  and  he  will  be  our 
wall  of  defense." 


180 


BENEFICENCE. 


They  sat  quietly  by  the  fireside.  The  wind  moaned 
down  the  large  open  chimney,  and  the  snow  fell  softly 
against  the  window-pane.  Steadily  it  fell  all  night, 
and  the  wind  drifted  it  in  high  banks,  covering 
the  shed,  streets,  walls,  and  paths  of  the  silent  and 
deserted  town.  And  yet  there  was  peace  by  that 
quiet  fireside,  the  peace  that  can  only  be  felt  by  the 
mind  that  is  stayed  on  God.  Few  words  were 
spoken.  They  held  one  another's  hands,  and  looked 
into  the  fire,  and  listened,  in  the  pauses  of  the  storm, 
to  catch  the  blast  of  the  French  trumpets.  At  nine 
o'clock  the  sound  was  faintly  borne  to  them  on  the 
breeze ;  a  few  hurried  blasts  swept  past  them,  inter- 
mingled with  sounds  of  trampling  feet  and  loud 
voices,  and  all  was  still. 

Their  hearts  beat  almost  audibly ;  and  they  drew 
closer  together,  as  they  felt  that  they  were  now  in 
the  midst  of  their  enemies,  Helpless  age  and  de- 
fenseless youth  !  What  armor  had  they  wherein  to 
trust?  The  shield  of  faith  1  and  safely  they  rested 
beneath  its  shadow ! 

Every  house  was  a  scene  of  revelry.  Great  fires 
were  kindled.  Altars  were  ransacked.  The  soldiers, 
with  their  songs  and  wine-cups,  their  oaths  and  blas- 
phemy, made  the  streets  ring,  striving  to  drown  the 

i 

131  ~ 


SNOW-FLAKE8. 


remembrance  of  intense  cold  and  terrible  privation  in 
those  hours  of  drunken  merriment. 

Still  the  little  group  in  the  quaint  old  house  sat 
peacefully  through  the  long,  long  hours  of  the  night, 
till  morning  dawned  and  showed  them  the  wall  of 
defense  which  God  had  built  round  about  them. 
Exposed  as  was  their  house,  from  its  position,  to  the 
eddies  and  currents  of  the  wind,  the  snow  had  so 
drifted  about  them  that  the  doors  and  windows 
were  completely  blocked  up ;  and  the  French  sol- 
diers had  not  found  it.  With  the  daylight  they  had 
left  the  town. 

Wind  and  storm  had  fulfilled  God's  word,  and  en- 
circled those  who  put  their  trust  in  him  with  a  wall 
that  protected  them  from  their  enemies,  —  a  wall,  not 
of  fire,  but  of  snow. 


Wntter  the   Snow. 

i-ALL  in  your  gleaming  folds  of  white, 

And  robe  the  mountain-crest  with  snow; 
Make  each  dark  vale  and  hillside  bright, 
Till  all  the  earth  is  fair  below! 


132 


BENEFICENCE. 


Let  all  the  forest  oaks  be  clad,  — 
The  birch,  and  shivering  aspen-tree, 

Nor  fail  to  shroud  the  tender  buds 
And  roots  of  frail  anemone ! 

Then  fold  them  close  and  shield  them  well 
To  guard  against  the  winter's  cold; 

While  fast  yon  snowy  flakes  descend 
And  penetrate  the  frozen  mold. 

And  we  will  sing,  though  wild  the  storm, — 

Sing  in  December  as  in  May, 
Fill  pledges  from  the  icy  brook, 

And  all  the  year  be  glad  and  gay. 

For  when  the  winter  solstice  brings 
The  Earth  resplendent,  like  a  bride, 

She,  with  her  snowy  coronal, 
Fulfills  her  promise,  glorified ! 

Fulfills  her  promise,  when  the  days 

And  months  have  brought  the  circling  year, 

When  vernal  woods  and  bursting  buds 
And  blue-eyed  violets  appear. 

Faint  type  of  what  our  hearts  foretell, 
Of  something  glorious  yet  to  be; 

The  life  for  which  our  spirits  thirst,  — 
And  hid  from  all  eternity  ! 


133 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


And  most  for  thee,  high  Hope,  and  Faith, 

I  languish.     Oh,  return  to  me ! 
Come,  fold  me  in  thy  heavenly  robes, 

And  mantle  of  sweet  Charity. 

And  hide  me  from  the  outer  world, 
And  quicken  to  my  inward  sense 

The  earnest  of  those  heavenly  joys, 
Till  I,  departing,  shall  go  hence. 

And  through  those  clouded  days  and  brief, 
To  yonder  heaven  I  lift  my  eyes; 

While,  through  life's  frost  and  over-growth, 
The  violet  of  my  heart  shall  rise, 

Up  to  that  naming  Soul  of  Love, 

Who  makes  with  joy  my  soul  to  sing; 
And  folds  beneath  the  wintry  snow 

The  buds  and  garniture  of  spring. 

8.  D.  c. 


Wifo- Flowers. 

E  swept  away  the  old  sear  leaves 

From  off  the  wintry  ground, 
And  underneath  the  frozen  snow 
The  tiny  buds  we  found, 

134 


BENEFICENCE. 


Just  waiting  for  the  beckoning  nod 

Of  sun  and  mellow  air, 
To  spring  in  beauty  from  the  sod, 

And  shed  their  fragrance  there. 

So  under  many  a  frozen  heart, 

Where  Hope  lies  chilled  and  dead, 
Beneath  the  tempest  cares  of  life, 

Love's  precious  buds  lie  hid ; 
The  smile  of  tender  sympathy, 

The  word  of  kindly  cheer, 
Like  the  warm,  sunny  air  of  spring, 

Will  make  the  flowers  appear. 


H.  £.  B. 


The    Alpine    Yiolet 

,  ID  Alpine  wilds  and  thick-descending  snows, 

Where  massive  hights  uplift  their  towering  crest, 
Adown  whose  rugged  sides  no  verdure  glows, 

And  e'en  a  feathery  flake  could  scarcely  rest; 
Fearless  alike  of  winter's  rudest  shock, 

Impending  glaciers,  or  the  tempest  wild, 
On  the  stern  side  of  that  cloud-piercing  rock, 
A  single  violet  looked  up  and  smiled. 


185 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


Some  might  have  said,  'twas  "born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air ; " 

But  no  !    Heaven's  light  shone  in  its  humble  mien, 
And  He  was  pleased  who  placed  the  floweret  there. 

So  I,  a  human  flower,  am  bid  to  grow, 

Mayhap,  in  life's  most  wild,  sequestered  spot, 
Where  Sorrow's  rudest  tempests  fiercely  blow, 

And  woes  accumulate  o'ershade  my  lot. 
Yet  even  here,  alone  and  sadly  chilled, 

Nor  known,  nor  noticed  by  the  passing  gaze, 
Like  that  lone  violet,  I  too  may  yield 

To  Heaven  a  silent  offering  of  praise. 
Earth  may  not  know  that  I  have  ever  been ; 

Yet  pleasure  to  the  eye  of  Heaven  to  give, 
And  thence,  one  sweet,  approving  smile  to  win, 

Is,  sure,  no  worthless  mission  to  achieve. 

Ib. 


130 


boso  is  foisr  snfo  fcill  obstrbc  these  things,  then  tbco  shall  unbtratanb  tbt 
lofring-hinbnrss  of  %  JOT*.  —  f  saint  10Z    43. 


ANUARY!  Darkness  and  light 
reign  alike.  Snow  is  on  the 
frozen  ground.  Cold  is  in  the 
air.  The  winter  is  blossoming 
in  frost-flowers.  Why  is  the 
ground  hidden?  Why  is  the 
earth  white  ?  So  hath  God 
wiped  out  the  past :  so  hath  he 
spread  the  earth,  like  an  unwrit- 
ten page,  for  a  new  year  !  Old 
sounds  are  silent  in  the  forest  and  in  the  air.  Insects 
are  dead,  birds  are  gone,  leaves  have  perished,  and  all 
the  foundations  of  soil  remain.  Upon  this  lies,  white 
and  tranquil,  the  emblem  of  newness  and  purity,  the 

virgin  robes  of  the  yet  unstained  year  ! 

i 

1  139 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


April !  The  singing  month.  Many  voices  of  many 
birds  call  for  resurrection  over  the  graves  of  flowers, 
and  they  come  forth.  Go,  see  what  they  have  lost. 
What  have  ice  and  snow  and  storm  done  unto  them  ? 
How  did  they  fall  into  the  earth  stripped  and  bare  ? 
How  do  they  come  forth  opening  and  glorified  ?  Is 
it  then  so  fearful  a  thing  to  lie  in  the  grave  ? 

In  its  wild  career,  shaking  and  scourged  of  storms 
through  its  orbit,  the  earth  has  scattered  away  no 
treasures.  The  hand  that  governs  in  April  governed 
in  January.  You  have  not  lost  what  God  has  only 
hidden.  You  lose  nothing  in  struggle,  in  trial,  in 
bitter  distress.  If  called  to  shed  thy  joys  as  trees 
shed  their  leaves ;  if  the  affections  be  driven  back 
into  the  heart,  as  the  life  of  flowers  to  their  roots, 
yet  be  patient.  Thou  shalt  lift  up  thy  leaf-covered 
boughs  again.  Thou  shalt  shoot  forth  from  thy  roots 
new  flowers.  Be  patient !  Wait !  Beecher. 


The  sun  had  gone  down  before  we  entered  the  val- 
ley of  Chamouni ;  the  sky  behind  the  mountain  was 
clear,  and  it  seemed  for  a  few  moments  as  if  darkness 
was  rapidly  coming  on.  On  our  right  hand  were 
black,  jagged,  furrowed  walls  of  mountain,  and  on 


140 


INSTRUCTION. 


our  left  Mont  Blanc,  with  his  fields  of  glaciers  and 
worlds  of  snow;  they  seemed  to  hem  us  in  and  almost 
press  us  down.  But  in  a  few  moments  commenced  a 
scene  of  transfiguration,  more  glorious  than  any  thing 
I  had  witnessed  yet.  The  cold,  white,  dismal  fields 
gradually  changed  into  hues  of  the  most  beautiful 
rose-color.  A  bank  of  white  clouds,  which  rested 
above  the  mountains,  kindled  and  glowed,  as  if  some 
spirit  of  light  had  entered  into  them.  You  did  not 
lose  your  idea  of  the  dazzling,  spiritual  whiteness  of 
the  snow,  yet  you  seemed  to  see  it  through  a  rosy 
vail.  The  sharp  edges  of  the  glaciers  and  the  hol- 
lows between  the  peaks  reflected  wavering  tints  of 
lilac  and  purple.  The  effect  was  solemn  and  spiritual 
beyond  any  thing  I  had  ever  seen.  These  words, 
which  had  often  been  in  my  mind  during  the  day,  and 
which  occurred  to  me  more  often  than  any  others 
while  I  was  traveling  through  the  Alps,  came  into 
my  mind  with  a  pomp  and  magnificence  of  meaning 
unknown  before :  —  "  For  by  Him  were  all  things  cre- 
ated that  are  in  heaven  and  that  are  in  earth,  visible 
and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions, 
or  principalities,  or  powers ;  all  things  were  created 
by  him  and  for  him ;  and  he  is  before  all  things,  and 
by  him  all  things  consist." 

141 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


In  this  dazzling  revelation  I  saw  not  that  cold,  dis- 
tant, unfeeling  fate,  or  that  crushing  regularity  of 
wisdom  and  power,  which  was  all  the  ancient  Greek 
or  modern  deist  can  behold  in  God ;  but  I  beheld,  as 
it  were,  crowned  and  glorified,  one  who  had  loved 
with  our  loves,  and  suffered  with  our  sufferings. 
Those  shining  snows  were  as  his  garments  on  the 
Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and  that  serene  and  ineffa- 
ble atmosphere  of  tenderness  and  beauty,  which 
seemed  to  change  these  dreary  deserts  into  worlds  of 
heavenly  light,  was  to  me  an  image  of  the  light  shed 
by  his  eternal  love  on  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  time, 
and  the  dread  abyss  of  eternity.  sunny  Memories. 


It  is  painful  to  think  how  our  youth  are  coming  to 
maturity  without  looking  into  these  Treasure  Houses 
of  the  King.  The  Bible  and  nature  are  mutually 
illustrative.  And  he  has  not  a  full  Christian  nature, 
who  can  not  profoundly  read  and  intensely  enjoy 
both.  As  one  has  said  of  the  book  of  nature, —  and 
it  might  equally  have  been  said  of  the  Book  of  grace ; 
— "  The  casual  and  general  observer  of  nature  soon 
ceases  to  be  interested,  because  he  looks  only  at  the 
surface,  and  soon  exhausts  all  the  novelties.  He 


142 


INSTRUCTION. 


merely  stands  on  the  outside  of  the  temple,  and,  after 
gazing  for  a  time  at  its  noble  proportions  and  splen- 
did columns,  his  interest  subsides.  But  he  who  really 
studies  the  works  of  God  because  he  loves  them  is 
admitted  into  the  penetralia,  and  there  ten  thousand 
new  objects  reward  his  search,  opening  continually 
before  him,  until  he  reaches  the  very  Holy  of  Holies, 
and  becomes  a  consecrated  Priest."  Education,  then, 
consists  in  forming  rather  than  in  informing.  Its  two 
chief  instruments  are,  not  the  wisdom  of  men,  nor 
classical  literature,  but  God's  works  and  God's  Book. 
Science  without  Revelation  is  of  doubtful  value. 
Revelation  without  Science  is  not  seen  in  its  fullness. 
Let  the  snow-flake  preach  Sinai  and  Calvary,  Eden 
and  Gethsemane,  the  first  and  the  second  Adam.  In 
its  purity  and  beauty,  its  freshness  and  its  bounty,  it 
shows  what  a  world  this  was  when  God  made  it. 
But  when  we  see  it  rushing  in  the  turbid  stream,  roll- 
ing in  the  dreadful  avalanche,  to  bury  the  homes  and 
possessions  of  men  with  their  owners,  —  when  we  see 
it  sullied  and  stained, — let  us  learn  that  man  is  fallen, 
that  a  curse  is  upon  the  earth  and  its  lord,  that  "the 
whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain 
together."  Kirk. 


143 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


(Sob  in  Nature. 

'•HAT  prodigies  can  Power  divine  perform 
More  grand  than  it  produces  year  by  year, 
And  all  in  sight  of  inattentive  man! 
Familiar  with  the  effect,  we  slight  the  cause, 
And  in  the  constancy  of  Nature's  course, 
And  regular  return  of  genial  months, 
And  renovation  of  a  faded  world, 
See  naught  to  wonder  at.     Should  God  again, 
As  once  in  Gibeon,  interrupt  the  race 
Of  the  undeviating  and  punctual  sun, 
How  would  the  world  admire !     But  speaks  it  less 
An  agency  divine  to  make  him  know 
His  moment  when  to  sink  and  when  to  rise, 
Age  after  age,  than  to  arrest  his  course  ? 
All  we  behold  is  miracle;    but  seen 
So  duly,  all  is  miracle  in  vain. 

All  this  uniform  uncolored  scene 
Shall  be  dismantled  of  its  fleecy  load 
And  flush  into  variety  again. 
From  dearth  to  plenty,  and  from  death  to  life, 
Is  Nature's  progress  when  she  lectures  man 

144 


INSTRUCTION. 


In  heavenly  truth ;  evincing,  as  she  makes 

The  grand  transition,  that  there  lives  and  works 

A  soul  in  all  things,  and  that  soul  is  GrOD. 

The  beauties  of  the  wilderness  are  his, 

That  make  so  gay  the  solitary  place 

Where  no  eye  sees  them ;    and  the  fairer  forms 

That  cultivation  glories  in  are  his. 

He  sets  the  bright  procession  on  its  way, 

And  marshals  all  the  order  of  the  year : 

He  marks  the  bounds  which  "Winter  may  not  pass 

And  blunts  its  pointed  fury;    in  its  case, 

Russet  and  rude,  folds  up  the  tender  germ, 

Uninjured,  with  inimitable  art; 

And,  ere  one  flowering  season  fades  and  dies, 

Designs  the  blooming  wonder  of  the  next. 

Cowper. 


of  Nature. 


!;OOK  on  this  beautiful  World  and  read  the  truth 

In  her  fair  page;  see,  every  season  brings 
New  change  to  her  of  everlasting  youth; 

Still  the  green  soil  with  joyous  living  things 
Swarms;    the  wide  air  is  full  of  joyous  wings; 


145 


SNOW-FLAKES. 


And  myriads  still  are  happy  in  the  sleep 

Of  Ocean's  azure  gulfs,  and  where  he  flings 
The  restless  surge.     Eternal  love  doth  keep, 
In  his  complacent  arms,  the  earth,  the  air,  the  deep. 

Will,  then,  the  Merciful  One,  who  stamped  our  race 
With  his  own  image,  and  who  gave  them  sway 

O'er  earth,  and  the  glad  dwellers  on  her  face, 
Now  that  our  swarming  nations  far  away 
Are  spread,  where'er  the  moist  earth  drinks  the  day, 

Forget  the  ancient  care  that  taught  and  nursed 
His  latest  offspring?    Will  he  quench  the  ray, 

Infused  by  his  own  forming  smile  at  first, 

And  leave  a  work  so  fair  all  blighted  and  accursed  ? 

Oh,  no  !    a  thousand  cheerful  omens  give 

Hope  of  yet  happier  days,  whose  dawn  is  nigh. 

He  who  has  tamed  the  elements  shall  not  live 
The  slave  of  his  own  passions ;    he  whose  eye 
Unwinds  the  eternal  dances  of  the  sky, 

And  in  the  abyss  of  brightness  dares  to  span 
The  sun's  broad  circle,  rising  yet  more  high, — 

In  God's  magnificent  works  his  will  shall  scan, 

And  love  and  peace  shall  make  their  paradise  with  man. 

W.  C.  Bryant. 


140 


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from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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